


cares we travail to content us

by AngelQueen



Category: Merlin (TV), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Fusion, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-08
Updated: 2011-04-07
Packaged: 2017-10-17 18:03:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/179677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelQueen/pseuds/AngelQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is a dark time for the galaxy. Emperor Uther has held much of known space in a violent chokehold for over two decades now. He ordered the annihilation of the Jedi Order, and demands that any person exhibiting Jedi abilities be executed for treason. His goddaughter, Princess Morgana of Alderaan, will do anything to see freedom restored to the galaxy, and serves as a spy for the Rebel Alliance. When she is captured by the Emperor’s agents, she is eventually brought into contact with Arthur Pendragon, Captain of the <i>Excalibur</i>. Their meeting alone will bring about changes unforeseen, as there are other, mysterious forces at work, and secrets locked away for years are about to come out. Of course, they’ll have to keep from killing each other as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** _Merlin_ and _Star Wars_ are property of their respective owners. I make no claim on them and write this purely for my own entertainment and for the entertainment of others. No copyright infringement intended.

The world of Coruscant was engulfed in madness. Events had been confusing for some days since Chancellor Uther’s wife, Lady Ygraine, had gone into labor, but now they had grown even worse. Conflicting reports were coming from all directions – one person said that her Ladyship had been safely delivered of a healthy daughter and that all was well, while others were crying that that Lady Ygraine and her child had either been kidnapped or murdered. On the war-torn planet such chaos was hardly new, but the people, exhausted and heart-sore after a long conflict with the Mercian Confederacy, were in no state to think rationally. Pandemonium erupted, which was only exacerbated by the sudden influx of troops called in from neighboring star systems.

Few could make sense of what was happening, and few understood why some troops took up guard positions around the chancellor’s residence, while most of the others marched stoically on the Jedi Temple. Few comprehended the reasons for the chancellor’s orders, but none questioned him. Most had ceased to question Uther, just hoping that he would lead them to peace once more.

So when information began to trickle out that Lady Ygraine and her child – a boy, not a girl as had been earlier reported – had both died due to the inaction of their Jedi healers, that the Jedi Order had rebelled and attempted to assassinate the king himself, the citizens of Coruscant accepted it as truth. There was no reason for Uther to lie, especially about the deaths of his own wife and child. Besides, the Jedi were strange folk, and they had not been able to end the war that had taken such an enormous toll on the Republic.

* * *

The small ship was located in a hangar in a remote area of Coruscant – a place so often engulfed in the smoke of industrial plants that most people disregarded it. The hangar itself was barely lit, which also kept it from being too conspicuous.

Thus, no one witnessed two people enter the hangar, both shrouded in cloaks, one a somber blue, and the other in a vibrant red who carried a small bundle.

“Are you certain about this, Gaius?” the red cloaked figure inquired.

“Yes, I am,” Gaius replied. “You have your part to play, Nimueh, and so do I.”

Nimueh tossed her head to throw her hood off, revealing sharp blue eyes, full red lips, and pale skin. “Your part,” she spat in a bitter tone, “your part is to cater to a spoiled wretch of a man, to help him hunt down your own brethren and slaughter them.”

Gaius eyed her tiredly. “Perhaps I can move him to mercy, convince him to leave those touched by the Force in peace. They are no threat to him now.”

“We never were,” she snapped. “The Jedi have protected the Chancellor and this Republic for generations, and now we’ve been betrayed by an upstart whose family only just took up the Chancellorship —”

“We have gone through this many times, Nimueh,” Gaius cut her off. “He blames the Jedi for Ygraine’s death.”

Nimueh flinched a little, but sneered. “He is more responsible than we were.” She looked down at the bundle in her arms, letting it fall away from where she had cradled it against her chest. It was a baby, sleeping peacefully. “We should never have interceded on their behalf, should never have used the Force to facilitate the boy’s conception,” she murmured. “By all rights, he should not even exist.”

“But he does, and if were not the will of the Force, he never would have survived,” Gaius stated bluntly, reaching out to brush a light hand over the sleeping infant’s forehead. “He is now our hope for the future. Uther will not live forever, and the heir will be innocent of his father’s actions.”

She snorted. “Aside from the actions that facilitated his very existence and his mother’s death,” she pointed out sullenly.

Gaius gave her a sharp glance. “Such bitterness will carry you down a dark path, Nimueh. Take care you do not fall into such a trap,” he warned her. “If you cannot bring yourself to hide the boy for his sake or the future’s, then do it for Ygraine’s. She loved her son, however briefly she knew him. Ensure his safety for her sake, if for no one else’s.”

Nimueh gazed down hard at the baby. That this child’s entrance into the world and the passing of his mother would spark such bloody retribution upon her kind was not something she or any of the Jedi had foreseen. She sighed inwardly. It was far too easy to blame the boy, and ridding the galaxy of him would not make the state of things any better. Uther already thought his son dead along with Ygraine, and he still sought to hunt the Jedi down – from the venerable masters to the youngest initiates. Actually getting rid of the boy would not save any of her order.

“Very well,” she said grudgingly. “I will protect him and hide him away. He will be safe, until the time is right.”

Gaius nodded, evidently relieved. “Go to Corellia,” he advised. “My sister resides there, and she is expecting a child. Our village is a remote one, and no one will think it amiss if she says the child belongs to a cousin dead from the war.”

Nimueh nodded, but raised an eyebrow. “You know where your family resides, Gaius?” she asked sardonically. “The Council would be most concerned, if there still _was_ a Council and a Code to uphold.” She began to move toward the ship’s ramp. “I will stop at Alderaan on the way,” she informed him, changing the subject before Gaius could get in a word edgewise. “Queen Glynis and Senator Organa are friends of the Jedi; they will help me. And they have a child of their own due any day now.” She started to walk up the ramp, but paused, and then turned back to Gaius. “You do know that if Uther finds out what you have done, it will not matter that you have served him and remained loyal all these years? He _will_ kill you for stealing his son.”

Gaius inhaled deeply and stared back at her stoically. “I will do what I must,” he said only. “As will we all.” He bowed lowly to her. “May the Force be with you, Nimueh.”

She looked at him briefly, and then nodded in return. “And with you.”

* * *

 _Three weeks later_

The birthing chamber in the palace of Tintagel was cool and dark. Only a few were present to see the ruling queen of Alderaan give birth to her firstborn, including her husband, a physician, and Nimueh herself. The people outside all waited for news with baited breath.

As the queen bore down yet again, Nimueh pressed a damp cloth to the other woman’s sweaty forehead and pushed her mussed blonde hair back from her face. The labor had been proceeding for some time, and Nimueh could sense that the time was fast approaching for the child to appear. However, she was also concerned. The child – a girl from what she could determine – had a bright, shining presence in the Force. Only recently, the girl would have been considered a prime candidate for Jedi training.

Now? It didn’t bear mentioning how complicated things were becoming.

Glynis let out a loud groan, drawing Nimueh back to the matter at hand. She leaned forward attentively, squeezing the lady’s hand.

Finally, the physician cried out, “A girl!” and lifted the child up to lay her on her mother’s stomach. Nimueh stared at the squalling thing while her parents cooed over her for several moments. She was red and still covered in amniotic fluid, but already the child was broadcasting her presence for anyone with any Force sensitivity to hear her. _Strong,_ Nimueh thought, _she’ll be a strong one some day._

Finally the physician whisked the newborn princess away to the area across the room, where several machines had already been set up to receive the child. Nimueh knew the physician would determine the baby’s weight, height, general health, but that he would also check the baby’s midichlorian count. It was a common practice, and she doubted it would be put into disuse so quickly after Uther had outlawed the Jedi Order.

Meanwhile, Gorlois was whispering tender words into Glynis’ ear, who smiled tiredly at her husband and consort. Then she turned to Nimueh and said, “Thank you, Nimueh, for being here.”

Nimueh managed a faint smile and nodded. “You are welcome, Your Majesty.”

The physician returned to them at that time, cutting off any further conversation. Immediately, Nimueh took notice of the man’s expression. Just moments before, the man had been jubilant. Now he was pale and worried.

Gorlois noticed the change in the other man’s demeanor. “Eaton, what is it?” he demanded, his green eyes sharp and serious beneath his thick dark hair.

“Is something wrong with her?” Glynis asked fearfully.

Eaton blinked at the sudden inquisition, but hurriedly sought to reassure the new parents. “No, no, my lord, my lady,” he said hastily as he handed the baby to her mother, who quickly cuddled the child to her breast. “The princess is perfectly healthy.” He rattled off her height and weight – both respectable numbers – and then he paused, hesitating. “I also performed a midichlorian count, as has always been the standard procedure…”

Nimueh nodded to herself; she’d been right. She glanced over at Glynis and Gorlois, both of whom had gone extremely pale. “How high is it?” Gorlois asked, tense.

“Six thousand,” Eaton said.

Nimueh inhaled sharply. The midichlorian counts of human newborns that were sought by the Jedi usually ranged between two and four thousand, the higher counts being extremely rare. The midichlorians increased in number over time, and by the end of their lives, human Jedi had somewhere between ten and thirteen thousand in their bodies. The midichlorian counts for non-humans behaved a little differently, and their numbers varied from race to race, but that hardly mattered at the moment. That the newborn daughter of Alderaan’s rulers had more midichlorians in her body than any other human infant that Nimueh could recall from the Temple’s records was nothing short of astounding.

“U-Uther… he won’t… he _wouldn’t_ ,” Glynis whispered. “Would he?” She looked at her husband beseechingly.

Gorlois looked alarmingly grey. “If it gets out that the future queen of Alderaan has the liking of a Jedi, and the potential abilities…” The prince shuddered. “I saw what happened at the Jedi Temple only from the outside, but I heard the screams.” He stared at his daughter bleakly. “Those were not the cries of adults that I heard.”

Glynis sobbed and clutched her daughter even more tightly, causing the little girl to whine and squirm against her mother’s frantic grip.

“We have to get her out of here,” Gorlois said in a strangled tone. He then looked up at Nimueh, who had watched the entire scene in silence. “Master Jedi, you have so many burdens on you already, but…”

Glynis hiccupped against her tears, but turned to look at her.

Nimueh took a deep breath. Gorlois was right. She did have burdens, yes, the chief of them being just a few doors down the corridor, currently being attended and guarded by a highly advanced nanny droid. Young Arthur Pendragon was a surprisingly good baby, not overly given to fussing, something she was extremely grateful for. Still, she would not feel safe until the boy was on Corellia, where Gaius’ sister resided in anonymity. Then she had to find her own hiding place, once she had the boy settled in with Gaius’ family. Still, the pleading expressions on the queen and her consort’s faces were too for her much to ignore.

“What is it you want of me?” she asked quietly.

* * *

 _“At seven-thirty-three in the evening, Tintagel standard time, Princess Morgause Organa was born to Queen Glynis and Prince Gorlois. Unfortunately, complications arose during the delivery, ending with the baby’s death at seven-fifty-nine. Their Majesties are unavailable for comment at the present time, but the newly-appointed Emperor Uther has already issued his sincere condolences to our sovereigns.”_

* * *

On Coruscant, an emperor sat alone in his great palace, grey-eyed and cold-faced. His wife and son were dead; he had only revenge and rule left to him now.

On Alderaan, a queen and her consort wept alone in their private chambers, acutely aware of the empty nursery just down the corridor.

On Corellia, in a city far from the planet’s capital, a cloaked figure arrived in a nondescript neighborhood and approached the door of one the houses, carrying two small bundles close to her. She knocked on the door with her booted foot, and it was soon opened cautiously by a young, plain and sad-looking woman, her belly rounded with child. The young woman did not seem at all surprised to see her visitor, but instead ushered her inside and shut the door. The door opened again late that night, when the other villagers had gone to bed, and a lone figure carrying a single bundle swept off into the night.

* * *

Like the rest of the Republic-turned-Empire, Alderaan had had precious little to celebrate in recent years. The heavy cost of the war with the Mercians, the death of Queen Glynis’ first child, the ever-increasing military presence throughout the galaxy, the Emperor’s continued surly behavior, and the constant persecution of any and all Force users – especially any remaining Jedi – all made for a dismal time for everyone.

Hope, however, had a way of rekindling itself in the darkest of times. When Queen Glynis announced that she was again expecting a child some four years after her terrible loss, the people of Alderaan were eager to see that everything went as it should. Their happiness only increased when she gave birth to a daughter with no complications. Morgana Organa was instantly adored by everyone around her from the very moment of her arrival. Even the Emperor on far off Coruscant came out of his depressive state enough to offer his congratulations to the new parents and to even stand as the little girl’s godfather.

Perhaps things were not wholly right in the galaxy, but there still were times of happiness in the midst of sadness.

* * *

On Corellia, in a city that was much like any other, life was simple. People worked their trades, minded their property, or performed whatever other duties their livelihoods demanded of them. Children played, laughing loudly and occasionally earning a scolding from their families or the exasperated schoolmaster.

In particular, there was a boy, a handsome child with blonde hair and blue eyes, who seemed to have become a natural leader among the younger children and even some of the ones who were older than him. He was always the first to organize teams to play some game in the fields, usually trailed by a younger, dark-haired boy with similarly colored eyes, who could hardly be convinced to let go of the older child’s tunic. Most boys would shrug him off, but the older boy, Arthur, demonstrated remarkable patience with his shadow, Merlin. However, this did not stop the two boys from bickering as children are wont to do.

“No, Arf’r!”

“Yes, _Mer_ lin!”

“No!”

“Baby!”

“Meanie!”

* * *

On the Outer Rim planet of Tatooine, life was a continuous struggle for survival. Much of the planet was controlled by a gangster race, the Hutts, who loved nothing more than to throw lavish, decadent parties or gamble on pod races, but who were also shrewd business-beings and could spot a snitch from across a packed room. The planet also had many lone individuals and families, all determined to eek out a life for themselves in the harsh landscape. That didn’t even take into account Tatooine’s hostile natives, called the Tusken Raiders by the settlers.

These people were a tough bunch, but as prone to the usual character failings as any other. Gossip was a staple for anyone and everyone, and one of their favorite subjects was crazy old Nimueh and her daughter.

No one knew where Nimueh and her child came from, exactly. Nimueh had arrived on Tatooine some four years ago, her infant daughter, Morgause, in tow. She was close-lipped about her past, saying only that her husband had died in the war and their home had been destroyed. She’d had sufficient funds to purchase supplies and then had set out alone, toward the Junland Wastes.

Men and women alike had clucked their tongues and shaken their heads. The Junland Wastes were probably the most dangerous areas on Tatooine, as they were in extremely close proximity to the Tuskens’ territories and hunting grounds. Many people expected to hear of the Tuskens murdering the woman and her little girl within the next few weeks.

They did not. Indeed, Nimueh and her daughter appeared in Anchorhead about once every two months or so to sell their wares – scraps foraged from caves or the barren Wastes – and purchase supplies. Little Morgause grew from a swaddled infant into a blonde-haired waif, her face constantly dirty from the sand that surrounded her home, and had watchful, wary blue eyes. Mothers whispered behind their hands that the girl was like a woman grown in a child’s body. It wasn’t natural, they whispered, though never in Morgause’s hearing, or in the little girl’s mother’s.

It was a strange, hard life, but it was all many of the people of Tatooine knew.


	2. Chapter Two

**_Imperial Year Twenty-One_ **

An explosion, the third of its kind, rocked the _Tantive IV_. Security members staggered under the blow, many of them falling against the bulkheads before righting themselves again and hurrying on their way. They raced toward the ship’s main access point while the crew continued to manage their stations as best they could.

A single woman, dressed in a simple lavender traveling gown and a blue cloak over it, also hurried through the consular ship’s corridors. She was not deaf to the mutterings of some of the more frightened people.

“We’re doomed…”

“There’ll be no escape for her Highness this time…”

She tightened her lips grimly, but said nothing and kept moving. Eventually she made it to the very bowels of the ship, near the escape pods and storage areas. “My lady?” she called softly into the dimly lit area.

“I’m here, Gwen.” Out of the shadows stepped a dark-haired young woman, her intense green eyes shadowed. She wore a dark blue traveling gown, much more elaborate than Gwen’s, its hood drawn up over her head. “Do you have it?” she asked.

“I just finished its construction,” Gwen said. She pulled a small device out of the folds of her cloak and handed it to her mistress. “I did not have time to test it, though.” She shot Morgana a sardonic look. “Our pursuers timed their arrival most ill.”

The seventeen-year-old princess took the device from her handmaiden and pressed a few of its controls. It immediately whirred to life, several lights appearing on its face. Turning it over in her hands, she examined it for several moments before finally nodded. “It seems to be working well enough,” she concluded. “You inherited your father’s talents, Gwen, and I doubt your abilities will let me down now. I —”

Morgana was abruptly cut off by another jolt to the ship. Both she and Gwen stumbled a little and Morgana nearly dropped the device. Just as soon as they both got their feet back under them, a strange series of clicking sounds poured through the hallways.

“What is that?” Gwen asked, her dark eyes widening.

Morgana straightened. “They must have put a tractor on us and are pulling us in.” She gave her handmaiden a grim look. “The Emperor’s representative must want to speak to me very badly. Come, we haven’t much time.”

She led Gwen further down the cramped corridor, finally stopping at a wall section where two escape pods were open and awaiting occupants. Morgana pulled a datapad from her robes and held it out to Gwen. “Here is where we part ways,” she told her.

Gwen froze, staring at her mistress in shock, taking the datapad merely out of habit. “What?” she sputtered. “But… my lady, surely you should be the one to go.” She glanced upward. “The Emperor’s people —”

“The Emperor’s people are precisely the reason why I cannot go, Gwen,” Morgana cut her off urgently. “They are looking for the Princess of Alderaan, and if I am not here, the Force only knows what they’ll do to the crew if they don’t find me.” She smiled bitterly. “I am Alderaan’s heir and the Emperor’s goddaughter. I doubt they’ll harm me. What’s more, they won’t miss you.”

Gwen nodded reluctantly. “No one will notice the absence of a handmaiden.”

“Exactly.” Another violent nudge of the ship kept Morgana from saying anything else, as did the sound of blaster-shots. She stiffened, glancing over her shoulder in mild alarm, and then turned back to the handmaiden. “Besides, the device only covers the presence of one person. Now, in you go.”

Gwen eyed her with concern, but did as she was told. Before she could open her mouth again, Morgana tossed Gwen’s device into the escape pod after her and then hit the controls next to the pod’s entrance. The hatch immediately slid shut, leaving Gwen alone. Moments later, Gwen could feel the pod release from the ship and knew she was on her way. Staring out the way she had come from the tiny porthole, she could see the _Tantive IV_ dwarfed by the royal destroyer. She could faintly make out the enormous ship’s canons, and eyed them warily. These would be the moments that Gwen would find out if her life-sign suppressor actually worked.

The seconds passed in an agonizingly slow manner, but no shot came to blow her out of Tatooine’s orbit. Gwen sighed in relief as her pod was caught in the planet’s gravity and began to fall toward the surface. She worried for her mistress, but Gwen also knew that what Morgana had asked her to relay was of just as much importance as Morgana’s safety.

* * *

Morgause sat on a large bolder overlooking the Junland Wastes, her eyes glued to the sky above her. She was supposed to be meditating, working on the techniques her adoptive mother had instructed her in, but she was far too distracted. Even in the light of Tatooine’s twin suns, Morgause could see the lights and colors that made up the battle going on above the atmosphere.

It wasn’t the first time she had come out to this spot to watch ships take potshots at one another. Hardly a season went by without there being numerous instances of ships under control of different Hutt factions picking fights with one another over their shipments, who had the right to land in what hangar in what city, or just because one crew member from one ship looked at another crew member from another ship in a manner considered ‘offensive’.

Still, this conflict was different. Even without visual aides to help her see more clearly, she could still make out the ships, thanks to her own Force abilities. She could see the large triangular ship bearing down on the much smaller one, firing efficiently to disable, not destroy.

A wave of frustration went through Morgause, a familiar feeling these days. Tatooine was a desolate dustball, and nothing interesting or important had ever happened here, nor would it ever. She did not understand why her mother had chosen _this place_ of all places to live.

Granted, it offered her anonymity from those who would hunt her down, but still, to be so far away from everything? She – they – could be doing something _important_ , something to strike a blow against those who had destroyed her people. Morgause could be doing something to help her family, the parents who had sent her away to safety when she was but hours old and the sister she had never met. She could be helping to throw off the yoke of a monster who held the whole galaxy in his grip. Instead, Nimueh, once a great Jedi Master, was languishing away on an insignificant sandbox of a planet, doing nothing, and Morgause was irrevocably tied here as well.

 _Not nothing, child. I consider raising a child in the ways of the Jedi quite something. Our traditions continue on, despite Uther’s persistent efforts to wipe us out and everything we represent from the galaxy. As long as even one person remembers, then he has failed._

 _Now, I distinctly remember telling you to meditate._

Morgause scowled, but nodded. _Yes, Mother._ Closing her eyes, she began the mental exercises she had been taught as a child, submerging herself in the currents of the Force, letting it guide her thoughts.

* * *

Sparks flew on the console, which prompted a long stream of Corellian curses, followed by a distinctly annoyed bellow, “ _Merlin_!” If anyone had been in Mos Eisley Docking Bay Ninety-Four, few would have batted an eye. Nearly anyone who knew of the Captain and the First Mate of the _Excalibur_ knew about their rocky relationship. Arthur Pendragon constantly called his co-pilot and first mate an incompetent buffoon – or worse – and since Merlin Emrys was hardly the type to pale at insults, the younger man would snap right back.

In the cockpit of the derelict-looking ship, Merlin looked up from his diagnostics. “What?” he shouted back, perfectly composed against the ire in Arthur’s voice.

“The kriffing negative power couplings are out again!”

Merlin rolled his eyes and stood up. Leaving the cockpit, he entered the main hold to find Arthur working in the secondary control room, where much of the ship’s power stations were situated. “I told you they were on the fritz a month ago,” Merlin said. “They needed replacing then.”

Arthur turned and glared at him. “Are you saying ‘I told you so’?”

Merlin raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t I just say that?”

“I _can_ shoot you, you know.”

“Mother would never forgive you.”

Arthur hummed skeptically, but said nothing more about it. Merlin knew that Arthur loved his mother as much as Merlin did. Arthur’s own mother was a complete mystery to him, having died giving birth to him. He didn’t even know the woman’s _name_. All Hunith would ever tell either of them was that a lady had brought Arthur to her when she was carrying Merlin, asking her to look after Arthur in his mother’s place. While that statement had made Arthur crow about being older than Merlin – and therefore wiser than him – when they were boys, they both knew that there was far more to the story than Hunith’s simple statements.

Merlin watched Arthur turn back to his work, and then looked over to the nearby table. Seeing the datapad lying there, he held out a hand to it. With barely a thought, the datapad skittered off the table and flew across the room, right into his hand.

Arthur didn’t even look up, but still said, “Stop showing off, Merlin.”

Merlin grinned a little and rolled his eyes. He then pulled up the list of equipment and parts they needed to purchase, and added the negative power couplings. Of course, he thought, they wouldn’t be buying _anything_ unless they were hired for something, and that was going to be a challenge. He and Arthur were well-known for being choosy about what they’d do for people. They refused to haul spice and other drugs for the Hutts, and would not become killers who sold their blasters to the highest bidder. More often than not, they took to transporting passengers and cargo, though they always checked to make sure said passengers and cargo did not carry anything that was illegal. Arthur had his own strict code of honor, and refused to deviate from it in the name of profit. It was that attitude that always served as a reminder to Merlin that beneath the pratish behavior of his foster brother and closest friend, there really was a good heart.

As a result of their behavior, the two of them had gained something of a reputation. On the one hand, it was good because the honest travelers and business dealers were more inclined to come to them before any of the other ship captains that frequented Mos Eisley. On the other, the dishonest severely outnumbered the honest, and as such they did not see as much business as their competitors. They weren’t about to take out a loan, as the only people with the kind of money they needed were the Hutts. If they did, they’d be in debt for the rest of their lives.

What money they currently had in their accounts would keep them fed for a few more weeks, but after that, things were going to get hard. It wasn’t like Merlin could use his own abilities to make money for them in between jobs. Not with the state of the galaxy or with the ever-increasing presence of Imperial stormtroopers on Tatooine. To even hint at having such abilities would be a death sentence for him, and Merlin doubted that Arthur would be spared either.

Merlin sighed. He knew, down to his bones, that Arthur was meant for a life greater than this. Merlin just had to make sure that Arthur lived to see it.

* * *

After seeing Gwen safely off the ship, Morgana went hunting. The blaster fire that she and her handmaid had heard could still be heard in sporadic bursts, which led her to think that the invaders of the _Tantive IV_ were slowly pushing her security team back. It was only a matter of time before she stumbled upon stormtroopers seeking any people who tried to hide from them.

She was right. Not twenty minutes of quiet stalking saw her come upon a group of five stormtroopers, poking about the escape pods. Morgana slid into the shadows, watching them and feeling grateful that the ship was running now only on emergency power. It made it much easier to hide.

However, one misstep proved her undoing. While trying to shift closer to her quarry, Morgana brushed against several loose containers, and the shifting of the objects caught the stormtroopers attention.

“There’s one,” the leader of the group said, his voice unattractively mechanical beneath his ugly white helmet. “Set for stun.”

Morgana didn’t give the man a chance to say anything else. She raised her blaster pistol and opened fire. Her shot hit the leader straight in the chest, piercing his armor. She fired a few more times, but that only caused the others to take whatever cover they could. Morgana quickly found herself in a disadvantaged position and knew she had to fall back, find a new spot from which to attack from. She began to retreat back down the corridor, but that was when her opponents received reinforcements. She kept firing at them, but it was a matter of sheer numbers. She hit one or two, but one was able to get a clear shot at her – and it only took one.

Blue light raced toward her, so different from her own lethal red blasterbolts, and Morgana fell into darkness, cursing her ill-luck.

* * *

 _Falling. Falling. Stopping. Hatch opening. The harsh, glaring sun. Dismal surroundings. Walking. Little relief in the rocky area. Little water left. So tired. Attack! Horrid creatures wrapped in rags! What —_

Nimueh’s eyes shot open. Instinctively, she leapt to her feet and moved toward the small chest she kept at the foot of her small bed. Lifting it open, she reached in and took out the two lightsabers enclosed in there. “Morgause!” she called urgently.

Her fosterling’s eyes shot open across the room, and she peered up at her. “What is it?”

“Come,” she ordered, tossing one of the lightsabers at her. Nimueh did not even look in her direction to see if Morgause caught it or it smacked into her forehead. “We are needed.”

* * *

Gwen was fairly certain she was going to die. She’d lost count of how long she had been walking under the relentless suns of this Force-forsaken planet, lost count of how long ago it had been since she’d been separated from her mistress and friend. She’d found a rocky, more mountainous area, but it had provided little in the way of shade from the suns’ rays. The water that had been in the escape pod was down to all but a few drops.

She finally could not walk any further, and collapsed against an area of the cliff-face that offered some moderate shade. Slowly, her knees began to bend, and she crumbled to the ground.

She had to get up, Gwen told herself. The message had to be delivered. Morgana was counting on her, the _Alliance_ was counting on her. She had to find Jedi Master Nimueh. Still, her legs would not cooperate.

The creatures seemingly came out of nowhere, screeching in some guttural language, howling battle cries, and waving strange, menacing, black sticks at her. Gwen reacted instinctively, adrenaline restoring energy to her limbs. She rolled, avoiding a blow to the head and instead was only struck in the hip. One of them tried to stomp her into the dust, literally, but Gwen remembered enough of her self-defense instruction to lash out with her arm and knock it off its feet.

She was not quick enough, however, to avoid the blow of the third creature. All went black.

* * *

Morgana groaned as she came back to consciousness, her body aching as though she had done a multi-kilometer hike through Alderaan’s mountain footpaths. She did not have long to catalog the pains of her body, as a sharp, mechanical voice assaulted her ears.

“Come on, lady, on your feet.” Hard, indifferent hands tugged on her arms, pulling her off the deck on which she had been sprawled. Before Morgana fully knew what she was about, she was surrounded by at least four stormtroopers and her hands were bound in front of her by magnetic cuffs, standard Imperial issue.

They hustled her out of the area and into the main corridors of the ship. Once she had regained her bearings, Morgana saw that they were marching toward the main hatch. Within minutes, they had arrived there, and she saw that the hatch was indeed wide open, giving her an unobstructed view of the docking bay beyond. It was filled with Imperial troops and droids. Escape was impossible.

However, a figure just inside the hatch soon caught Morgana’s attention. She peered at the figure as she was guided closer, and then pursed her lips as she recognized him. Strightening up to her fullest height, she said haughtily, “Lord Ector, I had no idea you could be so impudent!”

Lord Ector was a man of some influence within the Imperial court, being one of the Emperor’s closest friends and supporters. His acquaintance with the Emperor went back decades, and as the Emperor had made sweeping changes to the galaxy, Lord Ector’s fortunes and that of his family’s had risen alongside those changes. Lord Ector’s son, Kay, had even fancied himself an appropriate suitor for her, as she was the Emperor’s goddaughter and the only one who could even remotely be considered any kind of heir for him. Kay, however, was filled with only fanciful _ideas_ ; it had not taken much for both Morgana and her father to deter him.

Glaring at the man before her, Morgana continued. “The royal court and not to mention _my parents_ will not stand for this! When they hear you have attacked the private ship of the Princess and future Queen of Alderaan —”

Lord Ector peered down at her with cold, distant eyes, quite the opposite of his usual expression. In her many past visits to the Imperial court on Coruscant, she had often found him to be a respectful, even sometimes warm figure, but there was no trace of that man here. He interrupted her tirade with a wave of his hand, “Do not behave as though you are surprised or outraged, Your Highness. You can be at no loss as to why I am here.”

Morgana sniffed. “I cannot fathom any reason at all for your unjustified —”

“It was perfectly justified,” he cut her off again. “A set of confidential plans were transmitted aboard this ship by Rebel spies. I demand that they be returned, immediately.”

She gave away nothing in her outward expression, but inwardly her mind raced. The plans were gone with Gwen, so there was no chance of Lord Ector’s technicians ever finding them in the _Tantive IV’s_ databases. Still, it was alarming how quickly they had traced the transmissions to her ship and had pursued her to this point. How had they discovered her activities so fast? Had the Alliance’s spies been betrayed? Did she have a traitor among her own crew?

There was no way to answer any of these questions at the moment, so Morgana decided that the best course of action was to simply deny everything. “I have no idea of what you are talking about, my lord. I am a member of the Imperial court, Alderaan’s representative in that body, and am on my way home!”

Fury clouded the older man’s grey eyes and he loomed close to her. “You, _my lady_ ,” he sneered, his contempt obvious, “are a part of the Rebel Alliance and a traitor to His Majesty, the Emperor, _your own godfather_!” He gestured to her guards, roaring, “Get her out of my sight!”

One of the stormtroopers promptly shoved her toward the hatch. She managed a glimpse or two over her shoulder before she was too far away, but Morgana could see Lord Ector speaking to a black-clad officer. There had been no sign of her security forces – if any remained alive after the invasion of the ship – or her personal staff. She had no idea if any of them survived, or if they were, how long they would remain alive.

Morgana had no illusions about Uther having mercy on any of them.

She could only hope that Gwen had made it to the surface unscathed and would be able to find Jedi Master Nimueh.

* * *

When Arthur and Merlin returned to the docking bay, Merlin instantly sensed that something was off. The main entrance to the docking bay was always left closed and locked tightly when both he and Arthur were not going to be onboard the _Exalibur_. Mos Eisley was notorious for theft and organized crime, and it was unbelievable what they could remove from a ship or docking space in a short amount of time if given half the chance. So when Merlin saw that the door was open, he grabbed Arthur’s shoulder, bringing them both to an abrupt halt.

“What, Merlin?” Arthur asked irritably. “I still have plenty to —”

“ _Look_ ,” Merlin hissed, nodding to the door in front of them.

Arthur’s reaction – pulling his blaster from the holster at his hip – was enough of an indication that he had done so. Merlin pulled his own weapon as well. He had little use for any blaster, preferring to use his own natural abilities – it was remarkable, how often one object or another would be in the perfect position to drop on an opponent’s head – but if the situation they were walking into was a bad one, then having his blaster out and ready to fire would still be a boon for both him and Arthur. Hopefully it would be enough to get them onboard the _Excalibur_ and out of the docking bay, if need be.

They took up positions on either side of the door before peeking inside. After ensuring that no one was going to try and jump them upon coming in, they slid into the docking bay. As they came closer to the _Excalibur_ , they saw who had infiltrated the place. Merlin grimaced at the revolting sight in front of them.

Jabba the Hutt had come calling, bringing a few of his hired guns with him.

“Pendragon!” the disgusting slug was calling toward the ship. “Emrys!”

Merlin and Arthur had no intention of replying at once, but instead continued to watch the tableau unfold. When they did not respond, Jabba turned to one of his lackeys and said, “Any chance of opening it up and dragging them out?”

Merlin snorted under his breath, earning an elbow to his side from Arthur. Nevertheless, the lackey replied, “No way, Boss. I heard that the last person who tried got fried by whatever Emrys installed on the ship, and that Pendragon shot the guy afterward and tossed his corpse on his boss’ table while he was eatin’ his supper. I’m not keen on followin’ in that guy’s footsteps.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. So the story had grown with retellings, it seemed. Granted, specially designed security system had singed the man – a thief – quite a bit. The lasting effects of the lightning defense had made Arthur stun him, just to stop the man’s cries of pain. They’d then taken the guy to his boss and left him sprawled _in front of_ the man’s table, with the warning that trying to get his hands on their ship was probably not the best idea, possibly even a fatal one.

So now, to a fair few of the criminal underworld, both he and Arthur were vicious killers. Hardly a reputation either of them actually wanted, but it kept most of the various crime lords of the Outer Rim off their backs. Jabba was one of the more persistent ones.

Once Jabba resumed shouting their names at the ship, Arthur seemed to have had enough. Stepping out of the shadows, he demanded of the intruders’ backs, “What do you want, Jabba?”

The others whirled, many of them going for their blasters. Arthur, however, already had his out and pointed at them. Merlin stepped out of the shadows and stood at his foster brother’s shoulder, his own blaster raised and ready to fire. He also took note of several storage containers, ready to fling them at their adversaries if necessary.

Jabba ignored the potential hostilities and raised his pudgy arms. “Arthur!” he cried jubilantly. “Merlin! Excellent! Glad you’re here!” He waved a hand at his men, and they slowly lowered their weapons. After a moment, Merlin and Arthur did the same.

“Again,” Arthur drawled, “what do you want, Jabba? This is hardly your part of town.”

“Oh, I’d just heard a few things,” the Hutt said. “Thought I’d check them out for myself.”

“Heard what?” Merlin spoke up. He couldn’t read the Hutt’s intentions, unlike the rest of his hired help, and it bothered him. Jabba had always been a little too interested in Arthur, in wanting him under his thumb. Merlin had no intention of letting that happen, had indeed thwarted it more than once.

“… cash-strapped, to start with,” Jabba was saying. “I thought I’d offer you a bit of help, given how popular you are with a lot of the businesses around here. We could all be a big help to each other.”

“You mean haul your spice?” Arthur asked. He shook his head. “We’ve said it before, Jabba, we don’t touch the stuff, and we won’t have it on our ship. You’ve got plenty of smugglers who will deal with it, so let them have it.” He folded his arms. “Merlin and I have had rough patches before. We’ll get by.”

The Hutt didn’t respond right away, just stared at them. Merlin wondered if it was an attempt to intimidate them, but couldn’t be sure about it.

“Don’t be hasty, boys,” Jabba said at last. “Business for pilots and their ships is going through a big dry spell with no end in sight. You keep this up and you won’t have any money left. Mommy on Corellia certainly can’t spare you guys any.”

It was sheer willpower that kept Merlin from stiffening at the mention of his mother. Arthur, it seemed, had done the same, but he also seemed to grow taller as he stepped closer to the slug. “Don’t. Make. Threats, Jabba,” he said slowly in a low, biting tone.

If it was possible, the Hutt probably would have smirked at them. “Like I said,” he said evenly, showing no indication that he was bothered by the distinct menace in Arthur’s body language, “don’t be hasty. Think it over. I’ll be back in a few days. We can talk then.”

Jabba slithered away, moving toward the door with his goons following him. When the door slid shut behind them, Arthur let out a shout and kicked a storage container. “Slag it!”

Merlin could relate. It wasn’t pleasant, having the precarious nature of their current position thrown in their faces, as well as the fact that someone was making threats, even discrete ones, against the woman who had raised them both.

“Too bad we just can’t kill him and be done with it,” Merlin muttered. “It’d be great for our reputation. Remind everyone not to screw around with us.”

Arthur took a deep breath, visibly struggling to calm himself down. “No. We’d just have every other crime lord breathing down our necks. We kill one of their own, and they all come after us.”

Merlin didn’t say it out loud, but he had a feeling that they were both thinking it – shooting and killing Jabba might not be smart, but it would definitely make them feel better.

It was imperative that they get themselves a job. They needed to get away from Tatooine and Jabba’s probes and cajoling for a while.

* * *

Their trek across the sands and into the Jundland Wastes was a familiar one to Morgause, one she had used multiple times. It was good for physical training as well as her Jedi instruction. With the aid of the Force, both she and her mother were swift in their movements.

Nimueh finally came to a halt amid the cliffs, and Morgause stopped beside her. Peering around one jagged edge, Morgause bit back a curse. She could see three Sand People, all gathered around a crumpled form. She could not see the person’s face, but she could see the dark curls being jerked repeatedly by one of the Sand People as he and his fellows conversed in their guttural tongue.

“What are they saying?” she asked in a whisper. She was fairly well-versed in several languages, but the Sand People’s language had always eluded her. Not so for her mother.

“They’re arguing over who will lay the claim of ownership on their new slave,” Nimueh murmured back, her eyes focused on the group they were observing.

Morgause clenched her teeth. Her mother had taught her that it was paramount as a Jedi not to judge the cultures and customs of other people, but Morgause was a child of Tatooine. She knew of the atrocities committed by the Sand People on the other citizens of the planet. The people of Anchorhead still talked of the farmer’s wife who had been snatched from the edges of her husband’s farm several years ago. Her body had been found some months later, and what was left had shown all too clearly that her time with the Sand People had not been an easy one. There had been multiple forms of abuse on the woman, and Morgause could imagine that this young woman’s life would be horrible if they did not intervene.

She pulled her lightsaber from her belt. “We have to stop them.”

Morgause felt her mother’s fingers clutch her arm, but she shouldered past her, activating her blade and throwing her hood back from her face. She kept moving forward, stalking toward the Sand People. However, she stopped in shock when all three of them let out distinctively frightened shrieks and bolted in the opposite direction, leaving their quarry sprawled on the ground.

“Morgause!” Nimueh barked from behind her. “That was unnecessary.”

She shrugged. “It worked, didn’t it? Bought us enough time to get out of here before they come back with some of their friends and really outnumber us.”

Morgause moved closer to the unconscious woman, ignoring Nimueh’s long-suffering sigh, and knelt down next to her. Brushing her hair from her face, she quickly took note of all of the signs of dehydration present in her face. Grabbing her flask of water, Morgause unscrewed the cap and held the flask to the young woman’s mouth. Pouring a tiny amount into her mouth, she took it away and then closed her mouth and massaged her throat.

A moment later, the young woman coughed and began to stir. Her eyes opened, revealing them to be a dark, sleepy brown. “You’re all right, miss,” Morgause said. “You’re safe.”

The young woman swallowed, savoring the fact that her mouth was no longer dryer than the sands, and nodded weakly.

“Can you tell us your name?” Nimueh asked, having approached and now stood over Morgause’s right shoulder.

She opened her mouth a few times, her lips struggling to form the word. “G… Gwen.” Then her eyes shut and she was still again.

“We need to get her out of the suns,” Nimueh said. “She’ll be more coherent once she’s somewhere cooler.”

Morgause nodded and moved to gently start pulling the woman – Gwen – up. Nimueh grabbed the other arm and together they started back the way they came. Soon a wind picked up and began blowing the sands about, obscuring any sign that anyone – Sand People or otherwise – had ever been there.

* * *

Guinevere Antilles had been born to a modest, hard-working family in Aldera, roughly a year after the end of the Mercian War. Her father had been an officer in the Republic’s forces, one of the few to come from Alderaan. Most Alderaani were not warriors by nature, preferring to serve in different areas where they could be more useful, but her father, Thomas Antilles, had felt it his duty to serve as a soldier. He rose to the rank of Captain before being gravely injured in the Battle of Sullest. The wounds ended his military career and sent him back to Alderaan, but Thomas was not one to give up. He continued to put his skills – he was a natural when it came to technology – to use in civilian life.

His work was ultimately brought to the Prince Consort’s attention. Gorlois was hardly one to ignore talent when he saw it, and so hired Thomas. Of course, it probably helped Thomas’ case given that his wife, Anera, was the queen’s trusted chief secretary. Glynis treated Anera more as a beloved friend than an employee, and the two were in each other’s confidences. The queen even stood as godmother for her friend’s child when she was born, less than a year after Glynis had lost her own daughter.

Gwen’s early years were thus spent in Tintagel Palace, surrounded by the staff and even the royal family. She was young, barely three years old, when the queen gave birth to her second child, but by the age of eight, she was a regular visitor to the little Princess Morgana’s nursery. By the age of ten, she was considered the princess’ official companion, and at the age of sixteen, competed for the honor of being her handmaiden. Gwen was not a fool; she knew her close relationship with Morgana had probably tipped the scales in her favor, perhaps even more than they rightfully should have. Still, she had always known that her place was at Morgana’s side.

So when she regained consciousness and found herself in a strange place, her first thoughts were for Morgana. Gwen turned over the recent events in her mind, recalling everything that she was meant to do.

“Ah, you’re awake. Good.”

Gwen turned her head quickly toward the voice and discovered that she was not alone in the room. She winced inwardly, scolding herself for being so unaware of her surroundings. Now was hardly the time to be careless – not when so much depended on her.

“Yes,” she said slowly, taking in the appearance of the young woman seated in the corner of the tiny room. She had tanned skin – not unusual given they were on a planet with two suns – a head of long blonde hair, as well as fierce, steady blue eyes. “I assume I have you to thank for that?” Gwen asked carefully.

The young woman nodded. “You were about to be kidnapped by Sand People when my mother and I came upon you.” She peered at Gwen, her eyes raking over her. Gwen tried not to shiver. She felt like this woman was reading her somehow, measuring her without Gwen having to say a word. “Why were you out there in the Junland Wastes alone? You were asking for trouble. Anyone would know that.”

“I was…” Gwen trailed off, wondering how much to reveal. This woman – and her mother? – had saved her life, but her mission was hardly something to speak to a stranger about. Instead, she settled for, “I was looking for someone.”

“Who?”

Gwen stared back at her, and didn’t respond.

The blonde-haired woman pursed her lips, a sure sign of annoyance. “My mother and I only wish to help, if we can. We —”

“Peace, daughter.”

Both Gwen and the other woman turned to the door. Gwen’s eyes widened briefly. She had seen but one picture of Jedi Master Nimueh, the only one that the royal family had, before Morgana had departed on her mission. Red hair like a halo surrounding pale skin, eyes so blue they almost seemed unnatural. The woman before her had red hair, though it was now streaked with grey. The lines on her face were prominent, no doubt the result of living in such a harsh environment. Her eyes, though… they were the eyes in the photo.

“Nimueh,” Gwen murmured.

The younger woman – Nimueh’s daughter? Gwen had never heard about the Jedi having a child, of all things – stiffened and began to stand up, her posture becoming belligerent. Nimueh, though, merely raised her hand, staying any cross-questioning on her daughter’s part. “Indeed, I am Nimueh,” she stated baldly. “Forgive my daughter’s wariness. Morgause has learned to be cautious of anyone using my true name.”

Gwen nodded slowly, her eyes flicking between them. “Of course.”

Nimueh crossed the tiny room and gracefully sat down on the edge of the bed where Gwen lay. “Why do you seek me, Guinevere Antilles?”

Gwen’s eyes widened. “H-How?” she sputtered.

Nimueh’s lips twitched. “The Force tells me many things.”

“Ah.” Gwen’s education had prepared her for many things, including facts about the mysterious ‘Force’ that the Jedi had served and claimed was the source of their abilities. She wasn’t entirely sure how much she believed, but for the moment, she’d do her best to keep an open mind. Clearing her dry throat, she said, “My mistress sent me to find you. Princess Morgana Organa.”

“Why?”

She didn’t respond immediately, but instead looked around. Her cloak was hung up on the wall next to her bed. Gwen pointed at it. “There is a datapad inside my cloak,” she said. “It has the information you need.”

Nimueh did not move, but Morgause did. She searched through Gwen’s cloak for a few moments before pulling out the datapad and handing it to her mother. Nimueh glanced at it for several moments before pressing a calloused finger on one of the controls. The datapad flared to life, and a faint blue light poured out of the screen, creating a tiny hologram. Gwen instantly recognized the features of Morgana.

 _“Master Nimueh,”_ she said, her strong voice distorted by the recording, _“years ago, you were an able servant of the Republic, and loyal friend to my parents. Now they beg you to assist them in their struggles against the Emperor. Forgive me for not relaying their request to you in person, but my ship has fallen under attack, and it is only a matter of time before the Emperor’s agents have me in their custody. It is because of this that I have placed information vital to the Rebellion’s mission within this datapad and entrusted it to the care of my handmaiden. My parents will know how to retrieve the information.”_ She paused, taking a deep breath. _“We’ve fallen on desperate times, Master Jedi. Please, help us.”_


	3. Chapter Three

Morgana wasn’t sure how long she was imprisoned on the Star Destroyer. A day, at the very least, perhaps two. She was left to her own devices in a small cell; Lord Ector did not seem inclined to come and harangue her for her supposed ‘treason’. There were no tiles to count on the ceiling; everything was smooth and shiny. Not a single detail for her to focus on to distract herself from her present circumstances.

Finally, after she was certain she was going to go mad at any minute, her door opened. Three stormtroopers stepped inside. She didn’t bother getting up from where she sat, but just fixed them with a hard, icy stare.

“Come on, Your Highness,” one of them said, motioning to her. “Get up.”

Morgana did not deign to respond.

One of them reached out and grasped her arm, pulling her to her feet. Another stepped closer and pulled out magnetic cuffs. He held them out, intending to put them around her wrists, but Morgana seized the opportunity to lash out with her foot, kicking the stormtrooper in the legs. He cried out and stumbled back, but Morgana turned her attention to the trooper who held her arm. She shoved him as hard as she could into the third trooper, sending them careening to the floor.

The doorway was open and she dashed toward it. She had almost reached her target, when something gripped her ankle, which in turn knocked her off her feet. She cried out when her knees slammed into the deck. Morgana tried to scramble forward, to keep going, but the trooper that had gotten a hold of her didn’t seem inclined to let go of her. He had made it to his knees and was quickly gaining a stronger grip on her. “Help me!” he roared at his downed compatriots.

The other two troopers got to their feet and rushed over, grabbing her arms roughly and pulling her back to her feet. Within seconds, Morgana’s hands were restrained by magnetic cuffs.

“That isn’t going to help your case, Your Highness,” one of the troopers said harshly. “You’re just digging yourself a bigger hole.”

Morgana sneered at them, but they paid her little mind and pushed her out of the cell. The three men escorted her across the ship and into one of the smaller hangar bays, where a shuttle waited. They hurried her aboard the shuttle, which promptly took off. She was held in a room behind the cockpit, but Morgana still had a view of where the shuttle was going, and she could only stare in horror.

The colossal monstrosity in front of her was a perverse caricature of a planet – a deep, dead-looking grey. There was a round indentation on its northeastern quadrant as well. Morgana had only gotten a brief look at the plans before giving them over to Gwen, but she had seen enough to recognize what she was looking at.

The Death Star.

Eventually, the shuttle settled into another hangar bay, and Morgana got a quick glimpse of the rows of stormtroopers that were lining up to meet her. She pursed her lips. There would be no opportunity for escape here.

In time, she was escorted through various corridors and rode on an elevator, before she was eventually deposited in yet another cell. Looking around as the door slid shut behind her, Morgana determined that there was only one fundamental difference between this cell and the one she had previously been penned up in – instead of being made of white steel, this one was made of black.

She gritted her teeth in annoyance. If the Imperials were trying to coerce a confession from her by boring her into submission, she was afraid that they might be succeeding.

Morgana, however, was not left to her own devices for long. Not more than an hour after her incarceration, the door slid open again. Morgana stiffened and looked at the doorway. Two Imperial aides, dressed in black uniforms, stepped inside of the cell, followed by Lord Ector, and another man. Gazing at him more closely, Morgana inhaled sharply.

It was Aredian, one of the Grand Moffs and Imperial Governors. He was one of Uther’s most loyal adherents and fervent hunters of any Force sensitive being that happened to cross his path. He was also well known for his ambition and cruelty.

The governor smiled at her in a manner that would be considered pleasant, under any other circumstances. Morgana refused to let the man see her shiver. She had heard more than once that he could supposedly _smell_ fear.

“Ah, Your Highness,” he said, his voice deceptively polite, “it is lovely to see you again. If the state of affairs were different, I would have prepared you more comfortable quarters, but I’m afraid that the current political atmosphere precludes such amenities.”

Morgana raised her chin and responded haughtily, “Governor Aredian, I must express my outrage. My ship has been impounded, my crew imprisoned, and myself restrained without reason!” She glared at him as well as Lord Ector, who remained stoically quiet. “The Emperor will be hearing of this unjust treatment, I assure you.”

Her threat did not appear to cause any anxiety in Aredian. He continued to smile in a way that was rather odd, as though he found her catharsis to be rather amusing. He said, “His Majesty has already been informed of your… illegal dealings, Princess. He was most displeased to hear of it, and has ordered that you be brought to Coruscant to explain yourself to him.”

Morgana did not reply, merely raised an enquiring eyebrow. Aredian did not seem to mind, however, and continued, “However, before we transport you to the capital, he did authorize me to… question you on any Rebel activities that you might be aware of. By any means I deemed fit.”

She narrowed her eyes, refusing to show that she was quaking inwardly. Everyone knew of Aredian’s reputation when it came to interrogations. He was said to be creative, in the mildest of terms. Morgana opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off when the cell door opened again. Instead of another individual appearing in the door, though, the droning sound of a machine filled the room. Within a moment, a menacing, black droid floated into the room. Morgana’s eyes grew huge as she noted the syringe that was held in one of its appendages.

“And now, Your Highness,” Aredian said, his tone still as casual as if he was discussing the weather, “we will discuss the activities of the Rebel scum that you have been associating with. You may even supply us with the location of their base.”

Morgana lashed out again, moving furiously, trying to get away, but it seemed that Aredian and Lord Ector had already been made aware of her previous escape attempt. They both grabbed her and thrust her back down on the bench, holding her in place. One of the aides stepped forward and took the syringe from the droid. He then turned toward her as Aredian pushed up the right sleeve of her gown, exposing the pale skin of her arm.

Once she was injected with whatever serum they had determined to use on her, Morgana went slack, all the fight in her draining away. She closed her eyes, blocking out everything and everyone around her. Within a few minutes, though, she began to feel uncomfortable, a burning sensation in the tips of her fingers that was slowly spreading. She shifted slightly, but still said nothing. Then it started to travel, through her hands, up her arms, and into the rest of her body. White spots began to appear in her eyes, and her throat began to close up. Her breathing became heavy as Morgana tried to compensate for the pain.

It only got worse from there. The pain spread all over her body, until it seemed to become a part of her, as attached as a hand or other limb would be. That wasn’t all of what assaulted Morgana’s senses, however. Even as she succumbed to the agony, she could still make full use of her hearing, and all she heard was questions.

“Where is the Rebel base?”

“Who were your contacts within the Imperial bureaucracy?”

“Who inducted you into the Rebels?”

“How were you informed of the secret plans?”

“How were they transferred to your ship?”

“What coding system do the Rebels use?”

It would be so easy to open her mouth, though whether to scream or to actually answer a question just so the voices would cease their assault on her ears, Morgana didn’t know. She wanted to, she wanted it to stop, but she couldn’t. Even if she couldn’t remember _why_ she couldn’t, she knew that she could not say a word.

The voices continued, despite her determination.

“Speak, Morgana, and this can end…”

“Tell us what we need to know.”

“All sins will be forgiven, my dear…”

 _Stop it stop it stop it!_ Morgana wanted to shout it at the top of her lungs. _Be quiet!_

There was heat, shouts, groans of pain. Then the voices came back.

“How… _what_ just happened?”

“I don’t believe it. There was never any history of it within her bloodline.”

“Aredian, what did she do?”

“She, my lord, is a Force sensitive.”

“What? She is the Emperor’s godchild!”

“Indeed. He will not be pleased with the knowledge that the Force users had infiltrated so close to him.”

“What now?”

“The laws are very clear, my lord. I will follow them.”

They might have kept talking, but Morgana mercifully passed out.

* * *

It didn’t take long for Morgause and Nimueh to board up their home. They knew that locking the small building down would only provide a limited amount of protection, be it from the elements or from attacks by Sand People or other indigenous creatures of Tatooine, but they did so anyway. Each of them packed a small bag to take with them while Nimueh directed Gwen to the small cave behind the hovel, where they had concealed a speeder.

“We’ll go to Mos Eisley,” Nimueh stated as the three of them settled into the cramped transport. “The best pilots can usually be found there.”

“Just be careful,” Morgause added, her eyes glinting mischievously as she looked at Gwen. “It can be a little rough.”

Gwen only managed a faint smile before taking a sip of water from a canteen that Nimueh had given to her.

The speeder was fast, despite its lackluster appearance, and thus the trip only took about two hours to make it to the outskirts of Mos Eisley. When they arrived, Nimueh directed Morgause to drive to a seedy area of the city before having her stop outside one of the many cantinas. As the three women climbed out of the speeder, Gwen asked skeptically, “There will be a pilot _here_ to take us to Alderaan?”

Morgause laughed at her and nodded. “Surprisingly, yes. The best pilots usually come to places like this to wind down, and maybe even find an extra client or two.”

Gwen still did not look convinced, but nonetheless followed Morgause and Nimueh inside.

The smell of the cantina as well as the horrible music made Morgause wrinkle her nose faintly, but she didn’t break her stride, though she did glance behind her to make sure that Gwen was sticking close. Her mother had already given her the lecture on ensuring Gwen’s safety.

 

 _“She is the only link that the Alliance has to the information on this datapad,” Nimueh maintained gravely as they kept hammering the boards over the windows._

 _“But it’s all already on the datapad.”_

 _“The information itself is encrypted. Only Princess Morgana’s message was accessible,” the older woman explained. “I will wager that the princess wired the information to her handmaiden; if she dies, then the Alliance will lose whatever is on this datapad. Watch over her, daughter. She is your responsibility now.”_

 

Morgause led Gwen up to a large empty space at the bar, while watching her mother wade into the crowd of pilots, co-pilots, and shipmates out of the corner of her eye. Leaning across the bar, she tugged on the bartender’s thin tunic. “Two tiqias, please,” she ordered.

The bartender, a rotund man with a natural sneer, nodded shortly and turned away, allowing Morgause to turn her attention to Gwen. Much to her surprise, Gwen did not look as uncomfortable with their surroundings as she had expected the handmaiden would be. Morgause idly wondered if she was simply taking it in stride, taking refuge in what was probably extensive situational training, or if Gwen’s princess was in the habit of frequenting establishments such as this.

If the latter was true, Morgause could also wonder at just what her younger sister actually did with her time when she wasn’t working for the Rebellion or playing politics within Uther’s court.

Morgause opened her mouth, intending to start a conversation with Gwen – whether to find out more about Morgana or Gwen herself, she didn’t entirely know – when a new stench assaulted her nose.

“Hey, girls,” a gravelly voice spoke up behind them. “Wha’ya go fer?”

Morgause turned around to find two unkempt, stinking men, both of them eyeing her and Gwen lasciviously. It didn’t take much imagination to comprehend what they were talking about. “We have no rates,” she replied coolly. “We’re not in the trade.”

“Eh, sure ya ar’,” said the second one, grinning at them while nudging his friend with his elbow. “Me ‘n Bosc just got back from a six-month job workin’ fer Jabba. He pays good. How much ya want?”

“Still, not interested.” Morgause decisively turned her back on them. There was a growl behind her. She could feel the shift in the air, started to whirl back, her hand going to the lightsaber —

“Remove your hand, sir.” Gwen’s voice was as cold as a Hothan winter, and everything nearby seemed to freeze. Even Morgause stopped what she was doing and turned.

The man who had a hand on Gwen’s arm leered at her. “Like it rough, do ya honey? That can be ‘ranged if —”

In a blink of an eye, Gwen’s fist impacted with the man’s nose. The shattering of bone was loud in Morgause’s ears, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it as Gwen kicked the howling man away from her and then turned on his companion. Within seconds, both men were on the ground, moaning and cursing incoherently. The cantina had gone silent.

Morgause looked around at everyone who was staring in their direction. She offered them a cold smile, saying, “No means no.” She then bared her teeth threateningly. Everyone promptly looked away and the music started to play again. Morgause then turned to Gwen, who had slipped back into her spot at the bar. She grinned at her. “You’re more resourceful than I thought, milady,” she said teasingly.

Gwen just raised her eyebrow at her as she knocked back the last of her drink, but Morgause could feel the amusement radiating off of her.

It was around that moment that Nimueh appeared again, her deep blue eyes shining with amusement. “I see I should have reminded you two to keep a low profile,” she said, lightly scolding. She then nodded toward the dark-haired young man standing behind her. “Mister Emrys here is first mate on a ship that might meet our needs.”

* * *

Arthur sat in the back of the cantina, careful to keep his back to the wall and a clear view of the room. Ever since Jabba’s little visit to the docking bay, both he and Merlin had had the feeling that they were being watched. Arthur didn’t doubt that Jabba wanted him and Merlin – or more precisely, the _Excalibur_ since it was one of the fastest ships on the Outer Rim – so it would make sense that Jabba would have his hired guns keep an eye on them to make sure they didn’t bolt.

Which was exactly what he and Merlin planned to do, once they found a job that would pay enough for them to set up shop in a different port, on a different planet that wasn’t all but owned by the Hutts. They’d had enough of Tatooine to last them a lifetime.

He was nursing his second drink of the evening, intending to make it his last. Glancing about the room, he sought Merlin. His first mate had a tendency to mill about the room, chattering away at the other pilots who frequented the cantina. Merlin was a talker, so it came naturally to him, far more so than it did Arthur. Merlin’s ability to talk and get others to was useful, much more so than he had ever imagined it could be when they’d been children. Back then, his incessant talking usually earned him a few threats from the other boys to get him to shut up.

After a few moments, Arthur spotted Merlin coming toward him, his eyes holding a distinctly smug look. Then he glanced at the people following him. Three women, all wearing hooded cloaks. Arthur recognized two of them as the ones Jozzy and Bosc had accosted and received a beat down for doing so. It had been funny to watch, but he also knew to be wary. The last thing he needed was for Merlin to bring him a pack of strays to take in. The last time he’d done that, they had ended up taking Freya and her pets to Dantooine. Merlin had been particularly useless on that trip, spending most of his time swooning over the pretty girl.

Merlin took his seat on Arthur’s right, leaving the last two seats at the table open for the approaching women. Merlin leaned close and murmured, “They want to go to Alderaan.”

Arthur nodded slightly and watched the women come near. The oldest of the three took one of the chairs, her startling blue eyes fixed on him. The last seat was taken by the dark-skinned young woman, after the third gestured for her to sit. The third woman assumed a protective stance, acting almost like a bodyguard toward the other two. Arthur glanced around warily, wondering if these prospective clients might be targets for someone. He had no desire to get caught in a firefight or something similar.

“Arthur Pendragon,” he introduced himself. “Captain of the _Excalibur_. Merlin says you want passage to Alderaan?”

“Indeed,” the oldest woman said, sounding faintly amused, though for what reason Arthur couldn’t imagine. “Provided the ship is fast. We are in something of a hurry.”

“Fast?” Arthur repeated. He chuckled. “Oh, my ship is plenty fast, lady. She’d beat out just about any other ship on this planet.” Jabba’s intense interest was proof enough of that. “What’s your cargo?”

“Just the three of us,” the young woman sitting next to the older one murmured. Her accent was distinctly different from her companions, Arthur noted, coming from a world closer to the Core.

“And as few questions as possible,” the third woman added, her tone cold as she crossed her arms in front of her. Arthur glanced at her and saw another set of blue eyes, as well as wisps of dirty blonde hair.

“Problems?” he asked simply, his mind running over various possibilities, such as Hutt trouble.

“The Imperials are a nuisance we’d rather avoid,” the older woman stated.

Arthur stared at her. “I see,” he said slowly. “It’s doable, I suppose, but it will figure in to the price. Ten thousand total, and all in advance.” Arthur didn’t blink when Merlin shifted ever so slightly beside him, a sign of his displeasure. He rolled his eyes inwardly. For all that he was decent at managing their funds to make them last as long as possible, Merlin was impossible when it came to haggling. Besides, ten thousand would be just enough to cover their start-up on another world, away from Jabba’s sphere of influence.

The blonde woman’s expression shifted into one of indignation. “That’s outrageous —” she started furiously.

“Morgause,” the older woman cut her off, raising her hand to silence her. She – Morgause – did go quiet, though she still appeared to be livid. After a moment, the older woman replied, “We have three thousand to pay now, and you’ll have the rest, when we reach Alderaan.”

It was a reasonable deal, one he usually went for with most of their clients. Merlin fairly radiated approval of it. After a moment, Arthur shrugged. “Fine, we can leave as soon as you’re ready. Docking Bay Ninety-Four.”

“We should be ready to go in two hours,” she informed him.

Arthur nodded, but his attention had been caught by movement over by the bar. Two stormtroopers stood there, talking with the bartender. He was pointing in their direction. “Looks like Jozzy and Bosc went off and complained about being beaten up by a girl,” he commented. “There’s a door in the back for you to go out, since you’re eager to avoid Imperials.”

They nodded and slowly stood up, moving in the direction he indicated. The stormtroopers approached the table, but when they saw that the women were gone, they continued on their way. Once they were alone, Arthur turned to Merlin. “It appears our luck has finally changed, Merlin. Let’s go, before Jabba hears about it.”

Merlin didn’t argue.

* * *

“Take the speeder to one of the local dealers,” Nimueh ordered Morgause as they stepped out of the cantina and into the harsh sunlight. “Aim for fifteen-hundred, don’t go lower than a thousand.” She mentally tallied up what funds she had available. If they were fortunate, they’d have enough to cover the initial costs, and then Glynis and Gorlois could cover the rest for them.

Morgause nodded and hurried off, tugging on the hood of her cloak. Gwen looked ready to follow her, but Nimueh touched her arm briefly. “She’ll do better alone,” she said quietly.

Gwen nodded, and stayed put.

They found a shadowed area to wait for Morgause, and neither of them spoke. Nimueh’s thoughts raced over the recent events. It was obviously the work of the Force, their meeting the Captain and First Mate of the _Excalibur_. Uther’s son and Gaius’ nephew were grown and making their way in the galaxy, far from the village she had left them in, one an infant and the other still unborn.

 _It is time._ If Gwen’s appearance in her and Morgause’s lives, bearing the message from Morgana, hadn’t been hint enough, then meeting Ygraine’s son again surely was.

“We’re being watched,” Gwen said quietly from beside her, cutting into Nimueh’s thoughts.

Nimueh didn’t move, didn’t look around for who might be observing them. “Can you tell how many?” she asked just as softly.

“Two, at least. Maybe more.”

She nodded just a little. “We’ll wait until Morgause returns, and then work on it. Keep an eye out.”

Fortunately, they didn’t have to wait long. Morgause arrived back, twelve hundred credits in a pouch clutched in her hand. She smirked. “Gody’s was very happy to have the speeder. Apparently there’s a market for custom vehicles.”

Nimueh took the pouch and quickly explained the situation they were in. They would have to take a roundabout route to the docking bay, which would take longer, but it would help them to better spot out their observers and subsequently lose them.

It was halfway through their walk that they spotted their tails. Nimueh recognized them, as did Morgause and Gwen, as the two idiots who had confronted them in the cantina. Irritated, Nimueh led the girls around a corner and waited. Within seconds, the two men rounded the same corner, their hands on their blasters, but were quickly shoved against the wall by both Nimueh and Morgause. Gwen stood behind them, her arms crossed in front of her.

“You fools,” Nimueh hissed into their ears. “You dare spy on and stalk us?” She dropped her voice, using tones that she had used on prisoners back during the war. It never failed back then to scare the hell out of them, so she imagined it might be useful now.

A few further whispered threats from both her and Morgause, as well as frigid smiles from Gwen, were enough to send the two idiots scrambling away from them. Satisfied, Nimueh hurried the rest of the way to the docking bay. Merlin met them at the door, waving when he spotted them. “Come on in,” he said cheerfully, leading them inside.

The _Excalibur_ didn’t exactly look impressive or different from any other ship. It was obviously well-maintained, as evidenced by the fact that Arthur was in the midst of working with an open panel. Morgause, however, was less than impressed. “Are you sure this thing will get off the ground?” she asked.

Arthur slammed the panel shut and glared at her. “The _Excalibur_ hasn’t failed yet. She won’t disappoint now.” He waved his hand toward the ramp, indicating for them to go ahead and enter the ship. Morgause and Gwen did so, but Nimueh stopped close to him and handed him two pouches. “The three thousand,” she explained, “as agreed.”

The young man peered down at them briefly, and then nodded. She continued toward the ramp. Merlin and Arthur moved to follow, but all three froze when a voice from behind shouted, “Hey, Pendragon! Jabba said you ain’t leavin’!”

The ensuing chaos happened quickly. Arthur shoved Nimueh toward the ramp while at the same time pulling his blaster and opening fire on the group of five surly-looking men that had invaded the docking bay. Merlin also pulled his blaster as well and fired a few shots, but even as Nimueh rushed aboard, she could feel the boy using the Force, pushing various tools and cargo containers at the men.

The boy was making use of his abilities, it seemed.

She didn’t have time to think on it after that, as both Merlin and Arthur hurried into the ship and into the cockpit. Nimueh quickly strapped herself in with the girls, both of whom were demanding to know what was going on. Seconds later, the _Excalibur_ flew out of Mos Eisley.

* * *

Morgana didn’t know how long she was unconscious. She had been left alone, save for the single meal that had been thrust into the room, but she wouldn’t complain about it. Her body still ached from Aredian’s interrogation session, and her head throbbed painfully. The only thing that seemed to help at all was to sitting quietly and keeping her eyes closed against the harsh light.

That ended when the door flew open, and Lord Ector entered along with two troopers. “Come, Morgana,” Ector said simply, his expression a mask.

She stared hard at him, but it was half-hearted at best. Standing, she allowed them to cuff her, this time without incident, and they led her away from her cell. They moved further and further into the cellblock, stopping only when they came to a lift. They rode the lift for several minutes, before it opened up to a long corridor. The two troopers nudged her down it, Ector walking along just behind them. Morgana tried to take in as much of their surroundings as she could, learning the layout in the hope it would be useful if she attempted an escape at a later time.

Eventually, they stepped into a large, cavernous room full of computer stations and personnel. The bridge, Morgana supposed. She didn’t have long to inspect it, however, when Aredian appeared in front of her. She stiffened, but said nothing.

“Ah, Princess,” he said, his voice sounding as pleasant as ever. As if he had not just recently maltreated and tortured her. “How nice of you to join us, and just in time for a family reunion.”

Morgana narrowed her eyes, but still did not reply.

The large screen on one of the walls flared to life before anyone else said anything, and Morgana’s eyes were immediately drawn to it.

“Mother? Father?” The words slipped past her lips.

“Indeed,” Aredian cut in before they could respond. “We have traveled to your homeworld, Your Highness. Given your adamant reluctance to tell us anything of your friends in the Rebel Alliance… and your own unusual abilities, I thought that perhaps you needed a bit more persuasion.”

Morgana stared daggers at him. “What are you talking about?”

Aredian waved his hand toward the screen, where her parents were still visible. “Give me the location of the Rebels’ base as well as the plans your cohorts stole, or I will use this station’s weapons to wipe out Alderaan.”

The entire bridge went silent, aside from the beeping of consoles.

 _“How dare you!”_ Gorlois growled from the screen. _“The Emperor will never stand for this —”_

“His Majesty will not lift a finger to intervene, Your Highness,” Aredian cut him off shortly. “Your planet has been a nest of traitors for nearly two decades. Now we have proof that your own daughter is a Rebel agent, and that you two have been harboring a Force sensitive, even allowing her to be named the Emperor’s goddaughter.” His smile was cruel. “He _will_ wash his hands of you.”

Morgana froze. “What?” she blurted. She didn’t say anything else, but she saw the blood drain from her parents’ faces.

“Oh yes, Princess,” the Grand Moff said, almost gleefully, “you are a Force sensitive. I suspect it was that ability that allowed you to resist me so well during your questioning. Of course, such abilities instantly brand you as a traitor and therefore subject you to execution under the Emperor’s laws.” He paused, shrugged, and then continued. “But that is neither here nor there at the moment. Your choice, Your Highness. Give me the Rebel base and their plans, and I may just spare Alderaan.”

Morgana’s breath caught in her throat, horror-stricken. _He wouldn’t…_ Only, she knew he would. Aredian was the most ruthless of all of Uther’s lieutenants. Those who had died at his hand or at his orders had long since reached uncountable numbers. He would not turn a hair at destroying an entire planet just to get what he wanted, or even just to prove a point to her.

 _“Morgana, listen to me,”_ Glynis spoke from the screen. Morgana stared at her, silently pleading for the monarch to give her an order, to tell her what to do. _“Alderaan does not bow to the wishes of terrorists, my darling. That has always been our people’s policy.”_

Just like that; Morgana had her instructions. Taking a deep breath, she turned her eyes on Aredian. “Go to hell.” She did her best not to shake.

Aredian’s smug smile faded from his lips, and his expression became truculent. “You first, Your Highness,” he said, his voice deceptively soft. He turned toward his technicians. “Charge the main gun. Fire when ready.”

The technicians didn’t pause at the order, did not give any hint of remorse as they performed their tasks – all of which were leading up to destroying her home planet, to ending billions of lives.

Morgana panicked. “They’re on Dantooine!” she cried. “The Alliance is on Dantooine!”

It was then that the technicians did hesitate, looking toward Aredian. Perhaps, she thought frantically, they did feel something, perhaps they hoped that their commander would call them off.

“Ah, you’ve come to your senses at last,” Aredian said, sounding pleased. “Thank you very much for the information. You see, Lord Ector… I told you that she would prove reasonable, given the right encouragement.” He looked to his subordinates. “Continue with the operation.”

“ _No!_ ” Morgana lunged, her hands stretched out for Aredian’s throat. She had to stop them, had to make them stop. She didn’t care if her hands were still in the magnetic cuffs, didn’t care if this might get her killed. Her parents, her _people_ —

A pitiless hand gripped her shoulder, yanking her back and away from Aredian. She glanced back at the one who had grabbed her – Ector. “My lord, _stop him_ —”

It was too late. The station shuddered, the lights flickered briefly. The screen that held her parents’ faces went black, and then showed nothing but snow. The signal was gone.

 _Alderaan_ was gone. Morgana knew it was true. She could feel her stomach heaving though she had no contents to empty onto the deck.

“And you dare call yourselves human,” she breathed.

* * *

“… have risen by eight percent,” Gaius was telling the Emperor in a meeting with his advisors. “The larger numbers of herbs will allow for larger numbers of medicinal products as well…” The old man trailed off, his eyes growing distant.

From his seat at the head of the table, Uther straightened. “Gaius? Is something the matter?”

Gaius did not respond. His eyes grew huge and his body seized up. He inhaled once, a great heaving gasp, and then collapsed, sliding out of his chair to the floor. Everyone else in the room leapt to their feet, even the Emperor, who rushed to the side of his advisor and friend.

* * *

On the _Excalibur_ , only a few hours away from their destination, the crew and passengers had gathered in the main hold of the ship for something to eat. Arthur and Merlin didn’t keep any kind of fancy fare onboard, but the food they did keep was filling and tasted palatable enough.

Just as they were finishing the meal and gathering up the plates to take into the small kitchenette, however, Nimueh, Morgause, and Merlin stopped dead. The latter started shaking violently.

“Merlin?” Arthur spoke up, his eyes on the other young man. “What’s the matter?”

He didn’t answer. Before Arthur could repeat himself, all three of their bodies jerked violently, and then collapsed on the deck.


	4. Chapter Four

Gwen had no idea what was going on, why three of their party of five had just passed out at the exact same moment, but she knew what to do in a crisis. Demanding a first-aid kit, she knelt down next to her unconscious companions and started checking their vitals. Their pulses were quick – but otherwise all right – as was their breathing. When Arthur appeared with the requested kit, she rummaged through it, and was thankful to see that it was adequately stocked. Pulling out one carefully labeled vial in particular, she unscrewed the lid and held it under their noses: Nimueh’s, Merlin’s, and finally Morgause’s. In that same order, their eyes shot open.

Merlin groaned, his hand reaching for his head. “What just happened?” he muttered.

It was a moment before anyone answered, and finally Nimueh said, her voice sounding almost dead, “A disturbance in the Force… something horrible has happened…”

Gwen raised an eyebrow, but helped Morgause sit up and said nothing. Arthur, on the other hand, was less tactful. “The Force?” he scoffed. “It’s just something for tricks. Helps out occasionally in tough spots,” he added hastily when Merlin shot him a nasty look.

The _Excalibur_ ’s first mate shook his head. “She’s right, Arthur,” he said. “Something bad just happened.” He looked up at the other young man. “Remember the texts in the attic? The ones my uncle left?”

Arthur’s lips tightened into a thin line and he nodded shortly.

“The Jedi were able to sense things that happened, even if they were far away,” Merlin continued. “Especially if they were important things.”

Gwen knew little about the Jedi, but she could see both Nimueh and Morgause nodding in agreement. “It’s true,” Morgause contributed. “The Force binds everyone together, connects us —”

“And yet it did not save the Jedi from the Emperor’s exterminating them,” Arthur snapped, cutting her off. “It can’t protect anyone from being condemned as a traitor and executed for being able to sense it or even being associated with someone who can. Like Hunith.” He then pushed himself to his feet and stormed out of the main hold, in the direction of the cockpit.

* * *

Morgana’s sense of defeated horror did not last long. After a few moments of staring at the dead rocks that had once been a lush, green world peopled by billions of Alderaanis, she lost all sense of control. She ripped herself free of Ector’s grip, which had grown slack with her apparent docility, and lunged again toward Aredian, her hands aiming for his throat. He reared back in response, grabbing her wrists and holding them in a vice-like grip. She thrashed violently, trying to kick, bite, do anything she could to maim him or cause him some pain at the very least.

She could feel herself screaming, though Morgana could not determine if there were any words or if she was just shrieking incoherently. Her mouth had seemingly gained a mind of its own, and she had no desire to bring it back under control.

It took the combined strength of three stormtroopers and Ector to pull her away from Aredian and off the bridge. She was hardly aware of the trip back to her cell; focused on lashing out at any body she could make contact with. When Ector finally got her into her cell, he shoved her down on the bench. “That’s _enough_ , Morgana!” he shouted.

Morgana pushed her disheveled hair out of her eyes and glared up at him. “Damn you, Ector!” she hissed. “Damn you and your line to hell! My world was just destroyed by a madman, and you did _nothing_! Their blood is not just on _his_ hands, but on yours and Uther’s as well!” Her fists clenched and she stood up again. “You may tell your _precious_ Emperor that he is dead to me. He is the murderer of my family and people, just as much as Aredian is. Tell him I hope he suffers as he has _never_ suffered before!”

Ector did not respond, and eventually Morgana was left alone. For some time – seconds or minutes, she didn’t know which – she did not move. Then, slowly, she became aware that her hands were shaking. She clasped them in front of her in an effort to stop it, but it did her no good. Her breath became shaky and difficult. She tried to breathe deeply, but her throat was tight almost to the point of being closed completely.

It wasn’t until she shut her eyes that she realized that she was weeping.

* * *

The atmosphere in the main hold of the _Excalibur_ was an awkward one after Arthur left in a huff. Merlin said little as the three women conferred with one another quietly, his eyes glued on the direction Arthur had gone.

He’d honestly had no idea that Arthur felt that way about the Force and Merlin’s abilities. Oh, he had always known that his abilities were an immediate death sentence for him if anyone outside the family found out. His mother had taught him from the cradle to hide what he could do, to never let anyone but her and Arthur know. As children, he and Arthur had become quite good at covering up anything unusual that happened as a result of what Merlin could do. Still, he’d never known that Arthur had actually come to resent the Force so much. How could he have been so blind?

A hand settled on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Merlin.”

He looked up to see Morgause staring at him. She continued, “If Arthur cannot accept you for what you are, then he’s not worth fretting over. You can leave.”

Shock settled into Merlin’s gut at the very thought. Leave Arthur? Never!

Nimueh apparently sensed his dismay, and she stepped in. “It is hardly that simple, Morgause.”

That was true enough. Merlin had always known that Arthur was meant for a life greater than the one they lived, that he would become something more than a ship captain. His mother had hinted as much on occasion over the years, but even if she had said nothing, the reality of it was something that was as much a part of Merlin as his heart or lungs were. He just _knew_ that Arthur had more to do in life, and that he himself had to be there to help him, to stand by him.

A crackle from the intercom interrupted Merlin’s thoughts, and Arthur’s voice blared through the main hold. _“We’re coming up on Alderaan. Merlin, get up here.”_

Merlin pushed himself to his feet and hurried out without hesitating, leaving Gwen, Morgause, and Nimueh to themselves. He arrived in the cockpit within seconds. Arthur was seated in his chair, his attention focused on the console in front of him. He didn’t even glance in Merlin’s direction as he sat down in the co-pilot chair next to him. “Coming out of lightspeed in thirty seconds,” Arthur said.

Merlin nodded as he began to prep the ship for the massive deceleration. “Got it.”

At the appropriate time, the two of them grasped the appropriate controls and manipulated them in a sync born of many years of practice. The stars, which had been streaking by outside the cockpit window, came to a halt and appeared as a immense canvas in front of them.

That wasn’t all, however. Almost immediately after slowing the _Excalibur_ , something slammed into the hull.

“What the —” Arthur exclaimed, only to be cut off by yet another violent collision.

Nimueh, Gwen, and Morgause rushed into the cockpit at that point. “What’s happening?” Nimueh demanded.

Merlin was pulling up their star-charts and other navigation tools. “We’re in some kind of asteroid field that’s not even on any of our charts!”

“Double-checking our coordinates,” Arthur said distractedly. After a tense moment, his brow furrowed even more. “Position is correct. This _is_ the Alderaan system.”

“But it isn’t here!” Morgause exclaimed. “Where is it?”

“It’s gone.” Nimueh said. Her voice had dropped to barely more than a hoarse whisper, and yet it seemed to bounce loudly off the walls. “Destroyed.”

A choked sound escaped Gwen, but Merlin didn’t have time to look at her. Hopefully Morgause or Nimueh would see to her. He could hear Arthur protesting the impossibility of something destroying a perfectly normal planet out of the blue, but Merlin kept running scans, looking for anything at all that might provide some answers.

At first, there was nothing but a large debris field where Alderaan should have been. Huge chunks of rock and metal ore. Then, at the edge of the field, Merlin spotted something, round and perfect amid the disorder and chaos. He narrowed his eyes and asked, “Alderaan didn’t have any moons, did it?”

There was a pause before Gwen responded, “No.”

“Then what’s that?”

Merlin’s eyes went from the scanners to the cockpit window, and they widened. The moon-like object was enormous. It had to be, for it to be so large in their field of vision while still being far away.

“Arthur,” Nimueh’s voice was low and urgent, “something’s wrong. Get us out of here.”

Merlin saw Arthur nod out of the corner of his eye. “Good idea,” he muttered. “Full reverse, Merlin.”

Their hands flew over the consoles, seeking to change their directory and get back out of the system, but nothing happened. “Lock in the auxiliary power!” Arthur ordered. Still nothing.

“Why aren’t we leaving?!” Morgause demanded as the moon came steadily closer. The ship began to shake by then.

“A tractor beam,” Merlin blurted. “We’re being pulled in.”

“They’ll get on the ship as soon as we’re aboard,” Nimueh pointed out. “We cannot be held and questioned, especially not Guinevere.”

Merlin automatically glanced at Arthur, who looked at him at that exact same moment. “Give us a minute,” Arthur said after a brief pause. “We might have a solution.”

* * *

The station’s security personnel began to search the _Excalibur_ once it was brought into the docking bay were thorough and efficient, but nonetheless, the five of them remained undiscovered. Morgause sat hunched in one of the two shielded compartments that Arthur and Merlin had led them to, Gwen’s trembling form pressed against her side. Morgause didn’t have to use the Force to sense her companion’s grief, but she didn’t know what to say to her. Alderaan was the world of her birth too, but Morgause had no real emotional connection to it. She was a child of Tatooine. Gwen, though, had lived her entire life there, and now it – and probably her family – was gone.

Uncertain, Morgause carefully moved her right arm until it was draped around Gwen’s shoulders, and then pulled her close. The handmaiden froze for a moment, and then Morgause could feel Gwen’s hands clench at her tunic and her face hidden against her neck. Her sobs were quiet, and Morgause could feel her warm tears against her skin. She bit her lip, and reached up to stroke Gwen’s curls.

They stayed that way for some time, and in order to give Gwen the space she needed to grieve and then regain control of herself, Morgause began to reach out tentatively with the Force. Perhaps it might give her some information they could later use to facilitate her escape. She didn’t have to reach far, however, for her to sense other presences, one that was both familiar and unknown, and another that was sickening to all her senses. Morgause inhaled sharply and pulled back from the latter, shrouding herself from it as best she could, and focused on the former. Closing her eyes, she struggled to gain an image of the presence.

Dark hair, a blue gown. Rage. Anguish. Sorrow. _Mama, Papa, I’m sorry!_

Morgause’s eyes shot back open. _Morgana. Sister._

A tapping on the wall of the compartment interrupted her thoughts, the pre-arranged signal for them to emerge. Gwen heard it too, because it caused her to pull back from Morgause’s embrace, almost violently. Morgause could sense her embarrassment, so she studiously focused on unlatching the top of the compartment. Lifting it, she peered out into the main hold of the ship. Right next to her, the other lid also came up, revealing Arthur, Merlin, and Nimueh.

“Lucky you had these compartments,” Morgause commented.

“The previous owners used them for smuggling,” Arthur replied as he climbed out.

Merlin followed him, and then held out a hand to Nimueh. He said to Arthur, “Even if we could take off, they’ll drag us right back in with the tractor beam. Unless they just decide to shoot us and be done with it.”

Everyone was silent for several moments as they stared at them. “Thank you, Merlin,” Arthur finally quipped, “for that cheerful assessment of the situation.”

“It’s not trouble.”

Nimueh cut in, “I will deal with the tractor beam.”

“How?” Arthur demanded. “We don’t know the layout of this place. There’s no way to even know where to begin!”

She smiled enigmatically. “The Force will provide.”

Arthur just rolled his eyes, and yet again, Morgause resisted the urge to punch him.

* * *

In the end, the Force _did_ provide. A scanning crew came aboard along with three guards. Arthur and Merlin dealt with them quickly and donned two of the trooper uniforms, Morgause taking the third for herself. After that, it was relatively easy to get up to the docking bay’s observation station and take over.

Nimueh and Gwen brought up the rear, coming in only when the others had established control. Gwen immediately seated herself at one of the consoles after Morgause dragged a body off of it. “This is the main access port,” Gwen said after several moments.

“Good,” Nimueh said. “You should be able to access the information that we need. Check for tractor beam energy levels and maintenance schedules.”

Everyone waited tensely, as Gwen’s nimble fingers flew over the keyboard. Several images flitted across the screen in front of them before finally stopping on one. “Here,” the handmaiden said. “It’s the closest maintenance area, though there are several others. If you drain the power from just one, it will start a cascade failure. They won’t be able to use it to stop us from getting away.”

“Wonder why they built it like that,” Merlin commented. “Seems like a pretty big design flaw.”

“Indeed, but it is one that will work to our advantage,” Nimueh told him. “Let us not question the Empire’s stupidity for the moment. I’ll go alone.”

Arthur made no protest, and Merlin looked a bit reluctant, but he nodded. Gwen and Morgause, however, immediately began to disapprove. “Mother, wait,” Morgause said, “there’s more.”

“What?”

Her tanned face was set in grim lines. “I sensed Morgana’s presence.”

Gwen shot out of her seat and stared at Morgause before Nimueh could formulate any response. “You’re sure?” Nimueh asked. Morgause had never met her younger sister. How could she possibly know the girl’s signature?

Morgause nodded. “I am certain, and we cannot just leave her here. We must free her.” She looked at her significantly. “The Force is with her, Mother. You know what Uther will do.”

Nimueh pressed her lips together. Her daughter was right; if Morgana stayed here, sooner or later Uther would have her killed. If she was free, Morgana would be an obvious rallying point for nearly all of Uther’s enemies. “I’ll shut down the tractor beam,” she finally said, and then turned to Arthur. “Captain, you’ve already been pulled into things that were not a part of our agreement, but I must ask for your help.”

He did not answer at first, and she stared at him. _Do not disappoint me, Arthur Pendragon,_ she thought silently. _Prove to me you are Ygraine’s son._

“All right,” Arthur said. “I’ll not be party to someone’s death when I can prevent it.”

Relief spread through Nimueh. Then she saw the look of pride that swept across Merlin’s face, and could not help but feel sorrow when she remembered another young man, a Jedi, with a similar expression concerning his closest friend, the future Chancellor.

 _May you two fare better than Uther and Gaius have._

* * *

The plan was put together swiftly, and it was hardly one Gwen liked. Nimueh would see to the tractor beam, while Morgause and Arthur would free the princess. Gwen would remain in the observation station, feeding them any information through the communication mike that they might need as well as setting off distractions throughout the station to cover their escape. Merlin would remain with her as a guard. Gwen disliked the idea that she could not go and help free Morgana. She was Gwen’s charge. Possibly the only good part of it all was that Merlin was not pleased too. He didn’t like Arthur going somewhere without him either.

Gwen watched Nimueh take Morgause aside before they set out. The Jedi Master spoke in low tones, but she could still make out the words.

“If worst comes to worst, Morgause, you _must_ get Gwen and the plans out of here,” she said. “The Alliance must have them, no matter the cost.”

“But Morgana —”

“The princess sacrificed her freedom to keep those plans out of Imperial hands,” Nimueh cut Morgause off firmly. “She is bound by duty, just as you are. Do you understand me?”

Gwen could see that Morgause was upset, but she still nodded. Gwen wondered at the other woman’s pain. Why was she so concerned with Morgana’s fate? They had never met; Morgana would certainly have informed her that Jedi Master Nimueh had a daughter if she’d known about her.

She did not get a chance to ask, because Nimueh, Morgause, and Arthur chose that moment to slip out of the observation station, leaving Gwen and Merlin to themselves, along with several dead bodies that had been pushed over into a corner.

To occupy herself, Gwen turned back to the console. After searching through the database, she quickly found the imprisonment records. Morgana’s name was at the top of the list, so she accessed that record and began to read the information.

 _Prisoner 2187 – Organa, Morgana._

 _Subject has been accused of supplying information to known malcontents.  
Subject has been discovered to be a traitor to the Empire (Force sensitive).   
Subject to be transferred to Coruscant to the Imperial Department of Corrections (Emperor’s personal order)._

Gwen shuddered, dread and terror sweeping through her. It was terrible, to read about her mistress’ intended fate in such stark, simple words. In a simple record, Morgana had been reduced from the Princess of Alderaan to a simple number, a ‘subject’. It was sickening that Morgana – that _anyone_ – could be treated in such a way. Were they not a society of laws and rights? Did not every citizen have the right to appeal for their liberty, to defend themselves? How could the Emperor condone such injustice? Bad enough that it was done on ordinary people, but would he really do this to his own goddaughter?

Morgana couldn’t go back to Coruscant, not as long as Uther was Emperor. If she really was a Force sensitive, then it would mean her death. Uther spared no Force sensitive that she knew of, and she doubted he would make an exception, not even for his own goddaughter.

* * *

Arthur was fairly sure that he had gone insane. There could be no other explanation. Merlin and his girlish tendency to adopt every stray that came along had finally pushed him over the edge. That was the only possible cause that could have inspired him to help rescue an imprisoned princess whose planet had been destroyed.

Honestly, it sounded like one of the stories Hunith had told him and Merlin when they were very young. It was ridiculous!

Yet he had agreed, and now he considered himself honor-bound, so there was no backing out. For better or worse, he had to risk his neck and Merlin’s to save a girl that apparently his passengers cared for.

Disguised as stormtroopers and equipped with the information Gwen had managed to procure, he and Morgause made their way through various corridors until they approached the detainment area.

“This is going to get us killed,” Arthur groused quietly.

“Shut up, Pendragon,” Morgause snapped. “Unlike your friend, I do not have the patience to put up with your whining.”

He glared at her from behind the mask he was wearing, but kept quiet. When the doors opened to the detainment area, Arthur found himself facing a half-dozen guards and technicians. _Two against six,_ he thought. If it had been Merlin and him, he wouldn’t be worried, but he had Morgause with him and he didn’t know what her abilities were.

One of the technicians, an officer, stepped forward to meet them. “Who are you here for?” he asked.

“Prisoner transfer,” Arthur answered. “From cell 1138.”

The officer cocked his head quizzically. “Governor Aredian did not send a notification of any transfer from that cell. I will have to clear it with him.”

Arthur suppressed a shudder. Aredian was a name he knew – that most people knew. He had no desire to meet the man, especially with Merlin onboard and in jeopardy. As two guards approached, Arthur pulled his blaster and was relieved to see Morgause doing the same.

Chaos erupted. The guards and officers in the room had been taken unawares, and thus two were already on the ground by the time they pulled their own blasters. Arthur grabbed Morgause and they dove behind a console, continuing to fire. It was over before they knew it, and they had luckily come out of it without a scratch.

As the smoke cleared, Arthur stood up and hurried over to the console, where the body of one of the officers was lying draped across it. Yanking him off, he muttered, “All right, let me get Gwen. We’re going to need her to create a diversion, or we’ll have company down here real quick.” He glanced up at Morgause. “Go find your princess, and be quick about it. Tell her there isn’t time for her to do her hair and whatnot.”

Arthur ignored the nasty glare the woman shot in his direction and opened the communication commands. “Gwen?” he asked after several moments.

Her response was quick, thank goodness. _“We’re here. Do you have Her Highness?”_

“Morgause has gone to get her,” he assured her. “We had a bit of trouble getting in. There was a firefight. We need you to take their attention off of us.”

 _“On it._ Several moments passed, and then she continued, _“There. Fire alarms are going off on three different sublevels, including one near the primary weapons systems. That should keep them busy for a while.”_

Arthur nodded. “Good. I’m going to take the comm mike with me, so be ready for my signal if we should need anything else.”

* * *

Morgana had fallen asleep eventually, though it was hardly a restful one. Her dreams were filled with shrill cries of pain, of fire. So when the sound of her door opening awakened her, she could only feel thankful for it. Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she peered at her visitor, a single stormtrooper who was, strangely enough, not barking orders at her. Instead, he was just staring.

Morgana took him in for several seconds, and then noticed something strange – blonde strands of hair sticking out from beneath the helmet. She raised an eyebrow and jibbed, “Doesn’t the military have regulations against untidy hair sticking out from a helmet?”

“What?” the stormtrooper replied blankly, and Morgana’s other eyebrow went up. Was this trooper stupid, or was there something strange going on here? She did not get a chance to ask because the trooper interrupted, “Oh, the uniform. Right.” The trooper reached up and pulled the helmet off, revealing not an enlisted Imperial man, but a woman.

 _What in the world?!_

The woman, who really didn’t look all that much older than Morgana herself – she was perhaps Gwen’s age? – did indeed have long, blonde hair, though it was matted down and in need of a good brushing. Her skin was deeply tanned, but what Morgana found was her most remarkable feature was her eyes. They were a deep, deep blue, much like the northern seas of Alder —

Morgana forced herself to cut the thought off, knowing that thinking of Alderaan would be the end of her right now. The woman didn’t seem to notice her distraction, thankfully, because she said, “I’m Morgause; I am here to rescue you.”

“You’re _who_?” Morgana asked, pushing herself off of the bench.

“Morgause!” the woman exclaimed. “I helped rescue your handmaiden and the information for the Alliance. I’m here with Jedi Master Nimueh!”

“ _Nimueh?!_ Why didn’t you say so?” Morgana shot back. She hastened toward the door without waiting for an answer.

As they rushed out into the cellblock corridor, they were met by another person dressed as a stormtrooper, but also missing the helmet. This one too had brilliant blue eyes and blonde hair, the shades almost identical to Morgause’s. They looked as though they could be siblings.

“We have to find another way out,” he stated. “They’re sending a squad to take over. Couldn’t stop them.”

“Didn’t you have Gwen create the distractions we talked about?” Morgause demanded.

Morgana perked up. “Gwen?” she asked. “Gwen’s here?”

The blonde woman nodded distractedly. “Yes, she’s back near where our ship is being held. She’s safe.” Morgause looked down the corridor in the opposite direction of the main entrance. “Isn’t there another way out of here?”

Both Morgana and the man responded, “Yes.” She glanced at him appraisingly, and found him staring at her in a similar manner. She continued, “There is a lift a short distance from here. They took me on it to the bridge some time ago.”

Morgause started to speak, but was interrupted by sudden blaster fire, which hit the wall near Morgana’s head. She ducked instinctively, and all three of them began to move backward. “There goes that escape route,” Morgana muttered as her two rescuers fired back.

“Perhaps you’d rather go back into your cell, Your Highness,” the man snapped.

 _Just_ who _is this brat?_ Morgana wondered angrily. She didn’t get a chance to ask, though, as they continued to retreat. It took a little time, but eventually they found the lift Morgana had mentioned to them earlier. They got into it just in time, as the squad of troopers pursuing them had just rounded the corner. The doors shut right before they could open fire again.

“Which level do we need to get to?” Morgana demanded, looking at the controls.

“Level sixteen,” the man said, leaning against the wall and wiping his arm across his brow.

She punched in the appropriate level, and then turned to look at him. “Who are you? Morgause was kind enough to introduce herself, but you did not.”

He stared back at her. “Arthur Pendragon,” he finally responded after a moment of silence. “At your service, milady.” Morgana bristled inwardly at the sarcasm in his tone, but the lift suddenly ground to a halt before she could snap at him. She was much too preoccupied with staying upright.

“What happened?” Morgana asked.

Morgause reached out to the console, tapping the controls. They did not respond. “They must have some sort of emergency override.” Her expression was grim. “They’re stranding us here until they can open the doors and take us prisoner.”

“Or kill us,” Arthur added unhappily. “Great. Didn’t you think that they would have overriding controls for a lift that leads to the detainment area?” he asked Morgana, staring angrily at her.

“Well, excuse me for helping us get away from the troopers who tried to blast us to dust,” she snarled back at him. “Listen, hotshot, I don’t know what your problem is, and I really don’t care. I didn’t ask you to —”

“All right, that’s enough,” Morgause cut her off, her voice full of warning. “Both of you. Let’s just focus on getting out of here. Before they open those doors to capture or kill us.” She turned to Arthur, “Can Gwen do anything from where she is?”

Arthur shrugged, but pulled out a comm mike. “Gwen?” he asked into it.

There was a brief pause, and then Morgana heard Gwen’s welcome voice. _“I’m still here. Where are you? They’ve put out an alert that there are three suspects pinned down in one of the lifts —”_

“That’s us,” he interrupted. “Can you override the controls from there, so we can get on with it?”

 _“I’ll try.”_

“Oh,” he added, “and set off a few more distractions. Maybe a few electrical fires? Merlin! Make yourself useful!”

There was no response at first. Then there was a burst of static and a distinctly annoyed male voice, which said, “Who do you think has been setting off those diversions, you prat?”

They ended up waiting several minutes, most of which Morgana tried to ignore the impatient noises Arthur kept making. She also tried – and failed – to understand why Morgause kept staring at her.

* * *

Merlin, Gwen discovered, was fairly handy with computer systems as well, so much that he was soon setting off false emergencies all over the station. He even appeared to be enjoying himself, if the amused quirk of his lips was anything to go by.

His technical skills left Gwen free to further explore the station’s database, and she ended up finding a ransom’s worth of information. Troop information, movements, intelligence on possible Rebel agents throughout the Empire, and many other things had been stored within the station’s computers. Perhaps even more importantly, Gwen found the security recordings of what was going on when the Imperials opened fire on Alderaan. She watched the recording, tears gathering in her eyes, and saw Morgana frantically try to preserve their world, only to have Aredian cruelly annihilate it before her very eyes. She watched the station rain down death. Choking back her sobs and feeling grateful that Merlin’s offer of support – a hand on the shoulder – was silent, Gwen made a copy of the recordings and placed it within her robes, right next to the datapad. The Alliance could put them to use.

It was at that time that Arthur finally contacted them. Once they let them know of their position, Gwen shrugged off her sorrow and focused on the task at hand. “Merlin,” she said, “can you find the source of the override controls?”

“Give me a minute,” he replied as he sat back down at one of the other consoles.

Gwen nodded, but Arthur also heard his comment, and snapped, _“Not a minute, Merlin. Now!”_

Merlin rolled his eyes, but his fingers did not pause as they flew over the keyboard. “It’s coming from the detainment area,” he said. “They must have gotten some people down there to retake it. Working to override… there! Is it working now?”

 _“Yes! Good, Merlin. You’re not entirely useless.”_

Merlin snorted. “Always glad to be of service to you, Your Highness. Now, get back here so we can get the hell off this station.”

There was no response for a moment, until Morgause spoke to them. _“Have you heard from my mother yet?”_

Gwen glanced at Merlin. “No,” she replied. “Not yet.”


	5. Chapter Five

Nimueh had been an expert at infiltration during the Mercian War, and as she slipped through the corridors of the station, she was satisfied to see that her skills had not gone rusty over the years of hiding out on Tatooine. She was able to avoid stormtroopers, officers, droids, and the like with relative ease. What was more difficult to avoid was the sick, diseased presence that permeated the station, a presence she recognized.

Aredian may have been a Grand Moff and Imperial Governor now, but she remembered him from years ago… when he was one of the toadies on Coruscant whose hatred for the Jedi had been all but rabid. It wasn’t a surprise that he became one of the chief proponents of Uther’s policy to exterminate any and all Force sensitives. Nimueh only wished she had killed the bastard when she’d had the chance, years ago.

She had to make the occasional detour to avoid him, but finally, she came to the maintenance area that Gwen had directed her to. The equipment that was her target had been put on a platform overlooking an enormous drop, she found. Blinking incredulously, Nimueh stared at it. _What are these people_ thinking? She wondered. _Are they_ trying _to kill their own?!_

She let out a small sigh and shook her head. Stepping gingerly onto the platform and being careful not to look down, Nimueh began perusing the different areas of the console. After a few minutes, she finally found the correct area that she needed. Just as she was about to cut the power to the tractor beam, however, she began to hear the sound of many rapid footsteps. Cursing inwardly, she used the Force to disillusion herself.

Within moments, a group of about ten stormtroopers appeared. They stopped at the door. The leader said, “Wait here. If you notice anything out of the ordinary, report it in immediately.”

“Yes, sir,” said another. Two remained behind while the others kept going.

 _Great._ She narrowed her eyes in annoyance. She had hoped to get in and out without running into any difficulties or overt use of the Force, but that was impossible now. With some effort, she contained her irritation and glanced around. The guards were stationed at the door she had entered, but there was another door available, one that went in the opposite direction. Narrowing her eyes, Nimueh reached out and… there.

A loud crash emanated from the door. The two guards bolted towards the sound, which gave Nimueh the opportunity to dart out the way she had come.

She began to slip back down the corridor, working yet again to avoid anyone who came near her. Her part was done. Now she had to get back to the docking bay and hope that the younger people hadn’t gotten themselves killed trying to rescue Morgana Organa.

* * *

A wave of relief swept through Morgause when the doors to the lift opened up on the correct level. They didn’t have much further to go to get to the docking bay where the _Excalibur_ was being held.

“Well,” Arthur said, “if we don’t listen to any more royally unsound advice, we may just get out of here alive.”

Morgause groaned inwardly as Morgana rounded on the ship captain. She had no idea these two would react this way to one another – picking and poking at one another at every available opportunity. If they didn’t stop soon, either they were going to kill one another or she would.

“Both of you, just shut up,” Morgause snapped. “We don’t have time for this.” She pulled the comm mike back out and said, “Gwen?”

 _“Yes?”_

“We’re out,” she said. “You and Merlin find a spot to hide closer to the docking bay. We’ll meet you there.”

 _“Got it.”_

The three of them darted down the corridors, jumping into alcoves whenever someone passed through. Fortunately, they weren’t spotted, nor did anyone hear the occasional bickering between Morgana and Arthur. No one except Morgause, anyway.

She clenched her teeth and did her best to ignore them both. She had no idea having a sister would mean having to endure something like this.

As they made their way closer and closer to their destination, Morgause paused a moment and whispered into the mike, “Gwen, you and Merlin find a place to hide outside the hangar. We’ll find you.”

* * *

Merlin did not wait long after Morgause's final message. Grabbing his blaster in one hand and Gwen's hand in the other, they crept out of the observation station. Merlin was glad to leave the room, to get away from the stink of death that permeated it. It was surprisingly easy to find an alcove near the hangar to wait in, and within minutes of their arrival, Merlin heard the sound of footsteps. Cautiously, he peered out from their hiding spot, careful to keep Gwen out of sight behind him, and waited.

When Morgause appeared with Arthur and a beautiful, dark-haired woman in tow, Merlin nearly fell over with relief. Slipping out of the alcove, he hissed, "Over here!"

Immediately two blasters were shoved in his face. Merlin blinked.

A beat, and then Arthur let his blaster drop and he snapped, "You really have a death wish, don't you Merlin? What — "

"Not now!" Merlin cut him off, grabbing Arthur by the sleeve and dragging him into the alcove. He didn't even wait to see if Morgause and the other woman – Princess Morgana, he assumed – followed them. "The _Excalibur_ seems to be all right," he stated. "They haven't had a chance to start digging into the systems as of yet, but we can't wait much longer. They know you're on the loose and that you sprung Her Highness as well. They'll lock the hangar down as a precaution."

Arthur opened his mouth to respond, but was again interrupted, this time by a glad cry of, "Gwen!" Merlin turned and watched as Gwen flew into the outstretched arms of the princess. The two women clung fiercely to one another, their faces buried in each other's shoulders. Morgause looked on, and Merlin saw a flurry of conflicting emotions cross her face before it settled into a polite, indifferent mask.

"I hate to interrupt," Arthur spoke up, "but Merlin's right. We need to get out of here."

"Did you hear anything from my mother before you left?" Morgause demanded.

Merlin shook his head. "Nothing." He looked at her. "Can't you... you know, feel her?" It was one thing that had actually made his childhood a bit easier, being able to sense those closest to him, most specifically Arthur and his mother. The day he could no longer feel their presences was the day he'd probably go mad.

Morgause bit her lip. "Usually, yes, but I don't dare at the moment," she admitted. "There's something here, something on the station..."

"She'll probably come to the hangar," Arthur suggested, looking a bit uncomfortable. "She'd know we'd have to make a quick getaway. She might already be there."

That was enough to get them all moving, and they abandoned their hiding spot. Traversing the short distance to the hangar, they peered cautiously through the doorway. Fortunately, there were only a few stormtroopers guarding the place.

* * *

Nimueh was almost at the hangar. She had been fortunate on her way back, rarely running into anyone that would force her to hide until they passed her by. It seemed everyone was busy putting out the various brushfires set up by Merlin and Gwen. She rounded a corner, the last one that led to the hangar —

And stopped dead in her tracks. There was someone standing there in the middle of the corridor, blocking her path.

Aredian. And he was smirking at her.

Nimueh fought the urge to growl and began striding toward him, making no effort to hide herself. He had spotted her as soon as she had seen him. “You look distinctly satisfied with yourself,” she said by way of greeting. “Still as inordinately pleased as ever by your own cleverness, Aredian?”

His smug air did not falter, and he responded, “Did you honestly think you would go undetected, Nimueh? My methods at tracking your kind have only grown more sophisticated over the years. The Emperor will be delighted to hear that I have finally dispatched the woman responsible for his wife and son’s death.”

The muscles in Nimueh’s arms twitched, and she longed to wrap her hands around the bastard’s throat, to choke the life out of him, to avenge the hundreds of her brethren that he had murdered —

But she couldn’t. Nimueh had skirted the Dark Side nearly all of her life, but she had never fallen, and she did not doubt that killing Aredian would send her careening down the path of no return.

She shrugged. “I’m afraid I cannot accommodate you or your master.” She tentatively reached out with the Force, gauging the atmosphere around Aredian. He did not appear to have any Force-disrupting influences about him – but with him, that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Eyeing him suspiciously, Nimueh lashed out, attempting to push him back with the Force.

He didn’t budge, but from the way his lips twisted mockingly, he had still felt her attempt.

 _Damn it._

* * *

Morgana held tightly to Gwen’s hand as they darted across the hangar floor towards the waiting ship. The stormtroopers had their backs to them, providing them all with a rare opportunity to get to the ship undetected. However, when they were in mid-run, Gwen suddenly stopped, as did everyone else. Morgana paused as well, turning to look in the direction they were all looking.

“Mother?” she heard Morgause mutter.

Morgana peered across the hangar, toward one of the other entrances. She spotted two figures, one she immediately recognized as Aredian. The other was in a brown cloak, which obscured their features. She took that to be Master Nimueh. The Jedi was trapped, with Aredian and a group of stormtroopers blocking her escape route to the ship.

“We have to do something,” she whispered to Arthur, who was next to her.

He looked at her. “What?” he asked, his voice little more than a whisper. “We’re outnumbered. Plus, I don’t think we’re a match for the man who’s slaughtered my Jedi than anyone else.”

She wanted to be irritated with him – had been so since he appeared outside her cell – but Morgana merely smirked at him instead and raised her blaster, one she had picked up near the door of the hangar. All the while, she silently wondered just what she was doing.

She was the first to open fire. Her shot took out one of the stormtroopers and her second hit the wall. The others followed suit. Gwen and Arthur both raised their blasters, but Morgause and Merlin raised their hands. At first, Morgana incredulously thought that they were trying to surrender – until she saw several of the storage containers throughout the hangar, which had been stacked neatly along the walls, suddenly take to the air. Several of them crashed into the remaining troopers, but a few went much, much further. They flew through the doorway and slammed right into Aredian, knocking him off his feet.

It was all the distraction that Nimueh needed to bolt. The few troopers who were still standing turned their blasters on her, but when they opened fire, a beam of emerald light appeared in the Jedi’s hand, deflecting the shots.

“Milady!” Gwen shouted in her ear, tugging on the sleeve of her dress. “We have to go! Now!”

Morgana nodded, but was surprised that she felt some reluctance. A part of her wanted to stay, to see if she could get to Aredian. She wanted to _destroy_ him.

Then another voice rang through her ears. “Come on, Princess, stop being such a girl.”

 _Insufferable bastard,_ she thought as she was dragged up the ramp by both Gwen and Arthur.

* * *

It took some very fancy flying – perhaps some of his best work, if Arthur thought so himself – but the _Excalibur_ was able to retreat quickly enough and make the jump into lightspeed before the station could organize a pursuit.

It didn’t take long for nearly everyone to leave the cockpit. Merlin had walked off, intent on scanning every single area of the ship, just in case something had been manipulated by the Imperials. Nimueh had been quiet, her expression troubled, and had gone to seek a quiet corner to meditate. Gwen and Morgause had gone to do… something. Arthur didn’t really know what.

That just left him and the princess. He didn’t really know why she was still in the cockpit. She had sunk down into Merlin’s chair after he had vacated it, and was staring pensively out of the cockpit window, watching the stars fly by.

“Not a too bad of a rescue, hm?” he asked lightly. “You’d think the Imperials would have better security.”

She glanced at him. “It has the most powerful weapon in existence mounted on it,” she said. “I don’t think security was what they had in mind when they were designing it.” The bitterness in her voice was palpable.

Arthur stared at her. He had a feeling that her thoughts were turning to her destroyed world, and he didn’t know what to say about it. “Why?” he suddenly blurted out.

“Why what?”

“Why did you do it?” he elaborated. “You’re a princess, the Emperor’s own goddaughter. You could have simply kept your head down and eventually inherited all of it. Then you could have gone on your crusade and changed everything back to the way it was.”

Morgana gazed at him, her green eyes shuttered. Then she sat up straighter in the chair. “Sometimes you have to do what you think is right,” she answered, “and damn the consequences.” She held his gaze for a moment, and then lowered her eyes. “I just never thought the consequences would include the devestation of an entire planet,” she added quietly.

There wasn’t anything Arthur could say to that. He sympathized with her, true, but there was little he could say to vocalize it properly. Merlin and Hunith were so much better at this kind of thing than he was, and Arthur found himself struck with envy because of it.

* * *

Yavin was a red gas giant in a lonely sector far from the normal space-trade routes. Uninhabitable, yes, but it had an extensive series of moons, many of which were perfect places for habitation. The fourth satellite was a habitable moon.

Yavin IV had been home to a Druid sanctuary for centuries, serving as refuge to many of their order. The Druids had been Force sensitive mystics, but had existed separately from the Jedi Order. They’d had no desire to serve the Republic as the Jedi did, and instead set themselves up as scholars and teachers who walked their own quiet paths. Of course, Nimueh thought grimly, their cleaving from the Jedi had not saved them in the end, and they too had been caught up in Uther’s ruthless purge in the years after Ygraine’s death. If there were any left, then they were deep in hiding, much as Nimueh herself had been. Now their sanctuary served to house the bulk of the Rebel Alliance.

The flight from the Alderaan system – or what was left of it – to the Yavin system only took a few hours, and they had scanned the space behind them for the entire trip. The station – the Death Star, according to Morgana – was following them, albeit at a much slower pace. They had at least a day before it arrived.

The _Excalibur_ was given premium landing space on the Rebel base, once the Rebels were convinced that they really _did_ have Princess Morgana, her handmaiden, and Jedi Master Nimueh onboard. It was Morgana who led the large group down the ramp, flanked by both Gwen and Morgause. Nimueh made a point to follow the three women at a somewhat slower pace, with both Arthur and Merlin bringing up the rear.

Nimueh peered ahead of them, looking at the group of people that Morgana was hurrying toward. Finding the leader of the group, she inhaled sharply, recognizing him. _It shouldn’t be a surprise, though,_ she thought after a moment. _If anyone would lead a movement against Uther, it would be Tristan._

Tristan de Blois, the leader of the Rebel Alliance. Tristan de Blois, Uther Pendragon’s brother-in-law. Tristan de Blois, Arthur Pendragon’s uncle.

 _Well, aren’t they all just one big happy family?_ she thought sourly.

Unaware of her thoughts, Tristan stepped forward and pulled Morgana into a gentle embrace. “I’m relieved to see you, my dear,” he said quietly. “When we heard about Alderaan…”

Morgana returned the gesture for a moment, but then stepped back, “We must save our sorrows for later, my lord. Gwen has the plans. They’re our only hope now, and we have a day to find a weakness in that monstrosity.” She turned, gesturing to Gwen, who immediately pulled the datapad out of her cloak. As the handmaiden handed it to Tristan, Morgana began introducing the rest of her companions.

As it turned out Nimueh was the last to be introduced, so she was able to observe Tristan’s reactions to Morgana’s entourage. Merlin only received a polite nod, but both Morgause and Arthur earned sharp, searching looks. “… and this is Jedi Master Nimueh,” Morgana finished.

Tristan’s dark eyes pinned her, but Nimueh only raised an eyebrow before bowing slightly to him. “Lord Tristan,” she murmured.

“Master Jedi,” he responded, his tone equally blasé. “I thank you for your pains in returning the Death Star plans and Princess Morgana to us.” He handed the datapad to one of the military aides nearby, and then looked at her again. “May I speak with you in private?” he inquired.

So soon? She’d assumed he’d want to look at the plans first, but it seemed that she was wrong. Nimueh nodded, though, and followed him further into the large temple. Behind her, she could hear another of Tristan’s aides directing the others to another section of the base.

The office that Tristan led her to was small and windowless, and yet it was surprisingly cool. Nimueh sat down and stared at the man who had moved behind the desk. The Tristan de Blois she remembered had been a brash but talented young man, one of the Republic's finest battle commanders in the war against the Mercians. He had already established himself by the time his sister had married the Chancellor – meaning that there had been few murmurs about nepotism. She recalled that Tristan had earned the respect of not just the military, but of the Jedi as well. Some of her brethren had spoken well of him throughout the war, and the time she had spent in his presence – rare, but there had been a few instances – had led her to believe much of what she was told.

Now, there was little of that young man in the person before her. Tristan's eyes were darker than Nimueh remembered, and the lines on his face and grey in his hair showed how much he had aged in the past two decades. His lips were naturally shaped into a frown, and the sharpness in his gaze did nothing to put anyone who might look at him at ease. The weight of grief still hung about him like a dark cloud, but that didn't surprise her much. Nimueh recalled that Tristan had been very close to Ygraine, and the rumors that she'd heard while hiding on Alderaan had indicated that he had not taken her death well.

"Master Jedi," he spoke, breaking her thoughts, "perhaps you could clarify a few things for me."

She stared at him pensively. "If I can," she replied.

"Good. Can you tell me why you have brought me a young man who bears my dead sister's face and eyes, as well as Uther’s family name?"

So he had noticed it. Arthur's close resemblance to Ygraine had not escaped Nimueh's notice in her short acquaintance with him. It was almost painful, to see the features of dear, dear Ygraine, borne by the son she’d never had a chance to know. Still, as she looked into Tristan's eyes and saw how closely they were watching her, Nimueh knew this was not the time for half-truths. "He is _Arthur_ ," she said, emphasizing the young man’s name. Ygraine had confided in Nimueh of the names she had chosen for her child, be it a girl or a boy, and she didn’t doubt that Ygraine would have told her brother as well.

He blinked for several moments, confused, before his eyes widened in comprehension. Tristan leaned back in his chair, his face a little pale. "My sister-son lives," he murmured. "How did this happen? How did you get him out?"

"Gaius and I worked together," she told him. "Ygraine was dead, Uther immediately blamed the Jedi because we foolishly helped in their quest to have a child." The bitterness of that mistake had not faded; to this day, Nimueh still regretted giving in to Uther and Ygraine's pleas for help. "The boy would be crucial to any plans to restore what Uther destroyed, so we decided to hide him. He grew up in the care of Gaius' sister on Corellia. The co-pilot, Merlin, is her son."

Tristan did not speak for several moments, but eventually nodded slowly. "You probably did the right thing," he said reluctantly. "Uther would have ruined the boy." He ran his fingers through his greying hair. "This... will change many things, once news gets out about who he is. That Uther's son lives means that he is also Uther's heir, by old Republican law. There is much to consider."

"Indeed."

He nodded again. "And what of the girl, Morgause?" When Nimueh did not respond immediately, his eyes narrowed. "Most people might not take notice of it, but the girl bears a remarkable resemblance to Glynis. She's their firstborn, isn't she? The child that allegedly died."

Nimueh took a deep, steadying breath, but nodded affirmatively. Tristan stared at her a moment and then asked, "Why did they send her away?" She didn’t answer, but it didn’t matter. It only took him a few moments to figure it out. “Was she Force sensitive? That’s the only reason they would fake her death that I can think of.”

She nodded. "Uther would have killed her," Nimueh pointed out, "just as he would kill Morgana if he ever lays his filthy hands on her again. She is sensitive to the Force as well, and Aredian has likely already informed Uther quite... gleefully."

Tristan shook his head. "You have brought the winds of great change with you, Nimueh," he said, sounding almost amused. He leaned forward confidingly. "Tell me everything."

* * *

Gwen was glad to be rid of the datapad, as well as the information that she had gleaned from the Death Star’s database. It pleased Gwen to go back to her normal duties of looking after Morgana; she had no desire to be a spy for the Alliance. It was much too complicated, not to mention terrifying.

After Lord Tristan left to speak privately with Nimueh, Gwen followed closely at Morgana’s heels as she led the rest of them deeper into the sanctuary. They eventually came upon an empty antechamber, and settled into the chairs that had been scattered around the space.

Gwen sat on a stool at Morgana’s left, noting that Morgause took a chair on the princess’ right. Merlin and Arthur sat down in two comfortable-looking chairs across from them. There was a moment of awkward silence before Morgana spoke up. “From what I understand, the two of you have more than held up your end of the agreement that you made with Master Nimueh,” she said. “I understand that you were to be paid a significant sum when you delivered her and her companions to Alderaan.” She paused, a flash of pain crossing her features, and then continued, “Seeing as that is now impossible, I ask that you name what kind of payment you would prefer now. I have access to several royal accounts, unofficial ones that cannot be frozen or controlled by anyone other than myself.” She gazed at the two men. “How much do you require?”

Neither Merlin nor Arthur answered immediately. They glanced at each other and Gwen noticed how their expressions flickered and changed, almost as though they were having a conversation. After several moments, Arthur responded, “None.”

Morgana started in surprise, and stared at him. “What?” she asked. “But you have more than earned a reward. Rescuing me —”

“Was the right thing to do,” Merlin interrupted. He crossed his arms. “Your Highness, we only wish to help.”

“Why?” Morgause broke in, her tone almost suspicious. “This isn’t your fight.”

Again, the two men glanced at each other, and Gwen watched another silent exchange pass between them. “It is the fight of everyone who abhors injustice,” Arthur said at last. “If we or the _Excalibur_ can be of use in battle, we offer our services.”

Silence descended on their group yet again. Then Morgana smiled slightly, almost shyly, in Arthur’s direction. “Perhaps you are not as mercenary as I thought, Captain Pendragon.”

Gwen watched Arthur eye Morgana, and groaned silently when his lips slowly twisted into an arrogant smirk. “I knew it.”

“Knew what?”

He continued to grin at Morgana. “It’s okay, Princess, you can say it. No need to be shy.”

Morgana’s eyes narrowed. “Say _what_?”

“It’s obvious that you like me!” The resulting kick in the leg from Merlin did not alter Arthur’s expression in the slightest.

Her green eyes widened in shock, and then narrowed in irritation. “Less and less by the second,” she snapped. Standing up, she marched toward the door. Gwen scrambled to her feet and hurried after her.

 _And things had been going so smoothly for the past few hours too,_ she thought. It had been too good to last, it seemed.

* * *

Merlin didn’t know what to make of Arthur’s behavior. On the Death Star, he’d left that observation area to rescue a princess, and had returned to the _Excalibur_ intent on provoking said princess at every opportunity. Arthur, Merlin knew, liked a good argument as much as anyone – he could testify to that personally, with years of evidence to back him up – and he had always enjoyed a certain popularity with women. In their younger years, Merlin had found it almost revolting the way girls had thrown themselves at his foster brother’s feet, but by now he had become accustomed to it.

Which made Arthur’s behavior toward Princess Morgana all the more unusual. He had no need to metaphorically pull her braids to get her attention, and yet he seemed to relish doing so. It was all rather confusing, not to mention irritating.

After Morgana had left them in the little antechamber, Merlin and Arthur had chosen to return to the _Excalibur_ , intent on doing further scans of the ship, just to ensure that it had not been damaged during its time onboard the Death Star. They assumed that the Imperials had tracked them back to the Rebel Base, but no matter how hard they looked, neither of them found any tracking device.

It was around the time of the moonrise that they heard the speaker system in the temple come on. _“Attention all personnel, report to the briefing theatre immediately. I repeat, all personnel report to the briefing theatre.”_

Merlin looked up from his current project – putting back together the hyperdrive – toward Arthur, who was making modifications to their shield generators. “Should we go?” he asked.

Arthur stood up, nodding but saying nothing, which made Merlin wonder at his motives. Still, it wouldn’t take long to finish with the hyperdrive later on. Once off the ship, they followed the majority of the people milling about the base, eventually coming to the theatre and finding a spot along the wall in the back to listen.

As people began to settle into chairs or elsewhere throughout the room, Merlin glanced around, looking for any familiar faces. He quickly spotted Princess Morgana and Gwen standing near the front. Morgause was near them as well, wrapped almost defensively in her brown cloak. It took a little more looking, but Merlin eventually found Nimueh, and saw that she was standing next to Lord Tristan, deep on conversation with the Rebel leader. At that moment, the lights dimmed and Merlin turned his attention to the front, where one of the Rebel officers was beginning the briefing.

Merlin was well-versed in mechanics and engineering – keeping the _Excalibur_ in top shape required it – but much of the technical information went over his head. He did get the gist of the briefing though – the Death Star was nigh impregnable, but it had a single weakness: a small vent that led straight to the station’s core. A direct hit on that vent would set off a chain reaction that would cause the place to blow. The problem lay in getting to the vent, which meant getting past the station’s surface weapons, as well as their fleet of fighters.

It was a long shot, practically suicide. Still, when Merlin turned to look at Arthur, he saw that his foster brother was _actually considering it_! “Arthur,” he started, whispering furiously, “ _don’t_ —”

But Arthur raised his hand, cutting him off. They stood in silence, watching as the gathering broke up and all the pilots moved to take up their assigned fighters. “I have to, Merlin,” Arthur said at last. “I was meant to do this.”

“Meant to?” Merlin demanded incredulously. “Only few days ago, you were determined to set up shop somewhere other than Tatooine just to get away from Jabba. Now you want to go get yourself killed?” When he and Arthur had volunteered their services to Morgana the evening before, he had thought that it would be from the safety of the _Excalibur_ , where they could make an escape if necessary. A fighter was virtually defenseless in this kind of fight.

Arthur stared at him. “Hunith always said to pick our fights carefully,” he replied simply. “This is right, like I’m _meant_ to be here. What the Empire has done… it can’t be forgiven, and I can’t just sit by.” His gaze was piercing, his voice low and urgent. “You understand?”

Merlin gritted his teeth, annoyed. “Fine,” he ground out reluctantly, “but I’m coming with you. Someone has to watch —”

“No, you won’t.”

 _“What?”_

Arthur shook his head. “You’ll stay with the _Excalibur_. Keep her ready to make a fast getaway if it comes to that. Take as many of them as you can,” he said. He paused, then added, “Make sure Her Highness is onboard. I didn’t risk my skin to get her off that station just to have her get herself blown up a day later.”

And just like that, the conversation was over. Merlin was left gaping as Arthur stepped forward to volunteer as a fighter pilot. He started after him, craving to talk Arthur out of this suicide mission. Merlin had not spent his whole life looking after his brother just to see him _die_ – when a voice suddenly stopped him in his tracks.

 _Let him go, Merlin._

He frantically searched, and found Nimueh staring at him from her spot at Lord Tristan’s side. Her lips did not move, but Merlin still heard her voice. _His path led him here. His destiny is here. There’s much you can protect Arthur from, but you can’t shield him from his destiny._

 _Let him go. Let him be his mother’s son._

Merlin blinked. _What_?!

* * *

Morgana watched, completely shocked, as Arthur Pendragon offered Lord Tristan his services as a pilot. The man confounded her like no other. He behaved like a child so much of the time, but occasionally, like last night when he had volunteered the _Excalibur_ to assist the Alliance, there was a hint of something else in him. Something greater. Until he started claiming that she _liked_ him, of all things.

Who was this man?

As shocked as she was, though, she did take note of Lord Tristan’s unusual expression. He seemed oddly reluctant to agree to Arthur being one of the pilots in the coming battle, though she could not understand why. Morgana had not said anything of her personal opinion of Arthur, so there really was no reason to turn down a prospective pilot. However, the look faded when Nimueh laid her hand briefly on Tristan’s arm and nodded encouragingly. The Alliance leader hesitated for another brief moment, but then nodded.

“Very well,” Tristan said at last. “I’ll have my officers assign you a fighter, provided you pass our flight simulators. You’ll take your orders from Master Nimueh,” he tipped his head to the Jedi Master, “who will be serving as Red Leader.”

Arthur nodded. “Yes, sir.” One of the other pilots, a young man Morgana recalled as one Owain Antilles, appeared then and motioned for Arthur to come with him.

She watched him leave the theatre and murmured, more to herself than anyone else, “I don’t understand him.”

Morgause, however, seemed to have heard her. She responded, “He is full of surprises. He was less than supportive of his co-pilot’s abilities, and yet he still agreed to assist in freeing you – someone he had never seen before in his life.”

“Quite the contradiction,” Morgana agreed.

* * *

The resulting scramble to prepare made the time pass quickly while they waited until the Death Star was spotted. Arthur’s guide, Owain, introduced him to several of the other pilots before directing him to the flight simulators.

“It’s pretty much just a formality for you,” Owain stated as he programmed the simulator. “We know you can fly, but it’s standard procedure to put all prospective pilots through the simulators.”

It _was_ a formality. They threw the entire Imperial fleet at him, and he only lost twice. When Arthur came out, Owain and one of his other fellow pilots, Pellinor, were grinning at him. “You’ll fit in just fine, Pendragon,” Owain said cheerfully.

“Hey,” Pellinor said suddenly, “what’s with your surname? It’s the same as the Emperor’s.” There was no distrust in his voice, only curiosity.

Arthur shrugged. He had been asked about it many times in the past. “Coincidence, as far as I know,” he answered. “My foster mother never told me much about my biological family.”

The two men nodded. “War orphan?” Owain asked.

“I think so.”

The conversation probably would have continued, but for the intercom that suddenly flared to life. _“Attention all personnel: Death Star has entered the system. Will be in firing range in fifty-five minutes. All pilots to their fighters.”_

“Well,” Pellinor said, moving swiftly toward the door, “Time to go.”

Arthur followed the others, taking the jumpsuit they offered him. “You’ll be fine, ‘Dragon,” Owain said as they jogged down the corridors toward the hangar. “A point-oh-two rating? You stay with us and they’ll drag you up the ranks so fast your head will spin.”

Arthur laughed under his breath. Merlin would just _love_ to hear that, not to mention Her Royal Highness.

Once they reached the hangar, Pellinor directed him toward the fighter just to the left of his own. As Arthur hurried up the ladder to the cockpit, he glanced around, and saw Master Nimueh a short distance away. She too was in a flight suit, her helmet under her arm. Morgause was with her, wearing an unhappy expression on her face.

* * *

“Are you sure about this, Mother?” Morgause asked yet again. “You haven’t piloted a fighter since the war —”

“It’s not something you forget, daughter,” Nimueh interrupted, amusement flickering across her features. “Besides, these models are very similar to the fighters I flew in. I am quite capable of handling it.”

Morgause continued to frown. She didn’t like this, not at all. The Jedi were the minority these days, her mother being one of the few masters who had managed to survive Uther’s act of genocide. What was Lord Tristan _thinking_ , sending her up against that behemoth?

Nimueh’s fingers brushing under her chin caught Morgause’s attention. “I can do more up there than sitting down here waiting,” she explained, her voice uncharacteristically gentle.

“Then why am I the one sitting down here and waiting?” Morgause shot back. She didn’t know exactly why she was making such a fuss, but her instincts were all over the place at the moment. This was going to be a difficult day.

“Because,” the older woman replied, “your first duty is still to Morgana. I know that Arthur Pendragon has told his co-pilot to keep a close eye on the battle. If things go badly, Merlin is to evacuate as many as he can onto the _Excalibur_ , including the princess. You must stay with your sister. Train her one day, Morgause. When she is ready.” Nimueh’s eyes grew distant for a moment. “She will be vital to any future this galaxy has to face. She _must_ survive.” Then just as quickly, Nimueh retorted and stared at her hard. “As must you.”

Morgause opened her mouth to say something, but didn’t get a chance. Nimueh just smiled at her, chucked her under the chin once more, and then turned to go up the ladder. Morgause watched her for a moment, and then turned away. She needed to get off the floor before the fighters could take off, and Morgana was in the control center.

Her sister had been left in her charge. It was a heavy weight, being responsible for the last of her blood kin. Morgause had never suspected that when she had stared up from the surface of Tatooine, longing desperately to be among the stars and to meet the family she had been separated from.


	6. Chapter Six

After leaving the briefing theatre, Merlin returned to the _Excalibur_. As he had expected, it didn’t take him long to finish with the hyperdrive. Once that was done, he also finished Arthur’s work on the shields, as well as several other small tasks. When he could no longer find anything else to occupy himself with, he walked down the ramp of the ship. The _Excalibur_ had landed in the same hangar that housed the Alliance’s fighters, and he came out just in time to see the last of the fighters take off.

It would all begin within the next few minutes. Hurrying back onto the ship, Merlin made his way to the cockpit. Sitting down in Arthur’s chair, he began the start-up procedures, and then put the ship on standby. It would be ready to go – just in case. That done, he left the _Excalibur_ and made his way into the corridors. It took him several minutes, but eventually he found the control center. In the middle of the dimly lit room, Merlin quickly spotted Morgana standing at an observation console with Lord Tristan, Morgause, and Gwen gathered around it as well.

“Are they there yet?” he asked as he came to stand next to Gwen.

“They’re just coming into range,” the handmaiden supplied.

 _“Look at the_ size _of that thing!”_ shouted one of the pilots.

 _“Cut the chatter,”_ Nimueh snapped, and then began barking orders to the different squadrons. Merlin paid attention as best he could, but once he identified the marker that represented Arthur’s fighter, he kept his eyes glued to it.

“I hate this,” he said, watching the fighters dart around in random, complex patterns.

Morgause snorted. “I know the feeling,” she muttered. She crossed her arms and fairly glared at the console. Merlin imagined she was watching the dot that was her mother’s fighter as closely as he was watching Arthur’s.

No one else said anything when a group of new markers appeared on the console. Lord Tristan leaned forward, and then touched the headset he wore. “Squadron leaders,” he said tersely, “we’ve picked up a new group of signals – hostiles headed your way. Be on the alert.”

* * *

Gwen was only in the control center because Morgana was. She had no military training that could allow her to make a contribution here. Still, she was determined to be a witness to what was going, even if she was to die soon. The Death Star was still moving steadily toward Yavin IV and would be in firing range in less than twenty minutes. They didn’t have much time left. Still, she refused to be parted again from Morgana. She would die, if need be, at her side.

Watching the fighters engage the Imperials was horrible, especially when those markers started blinking out – markers from both sides. People were dying. And one way or another, many more would die, whether it was the entire Rebel Alliance on Yavin IV, or the thousands who were onboard the Death Star.

“We’re running out of time,” Morgana spoke up. “By the time the squadrons get past the Imperial fighters and locate the vent, it will be too late. They need help.”

Lord Tristan shook his head. “What ships we have are in the middle of preparing for an emergency evacuation. We have no ships left to spare, or they’d already be out there.”

The Alliance leader was right. In fact, Morgana should be on one of those ships already, or so Gwen’s instincts told her, but she knew that Morgana wouldn’t run.

“That’s not entirely true, sir,” Merlin suddenly exclaimed. “The _Excalibur_ is still in the hangar. It’s on standby. I can be up there in just a few minutes.”

Lord Tristan stared at him. “It’s an honorable gesture, young man,” he said, “but you can’t pilot and fight in a battle like this all at once, no matter how capable I’m sure you are. And I have no personnel to help you.”

“But you do have us,” Morgana cut in. “I know how to operate shipboard guns.”

“As do I,” Morgause added.

“And I,” Gwen also spoke up. “My father taught me.”

“We can do this, my lord.”

The Alliance leader didn’t respond at first, just stared at them all. Merlin seemed to hold his breath, and Gwen found herself doing the same.

“Go.”

* * *

Arthur was fast coming to believe that he was _not_ meant to be a fighter pilot. The cramped quarters did nothing for him, and he preferred a craft with a lot more firepower. Plus, being the same size of his opponents – the Imperial fighters, anyway – put at a distinct disadvantage. The _Excalibur_ could take out multiple fighters much more quickly than the squadron.

 _“I can’t shake this guy!”_ Pellinor shouted.

Arthur instinctively spun his ship into a roll. “I’m coming, Pellinor,” he said. “Hold on.”

It took several crucial seconds, but then the shot was lined up, and there was one less Imperial fighter to worry about.

 _“Thanks, Dragon.”_

 _“Good shooting, Dragon,”_ Nimueh praised. _“Now, you, Pellinor, and Owain go to —”_

The Jedi was cut off when they came under fire again, this time by a trio of Imperial fighters – only these fighters were a slightly different make and model than the ones they had been fighting.

Nimueh cursed. _“Bedivere, Gaheris, you two are with me. Dragon, lead the rest of the squadron, hold off the rest of the Imperials while we make our attack run. Go!”_

“On it,” Arthur confirmed. “Red squadron, you’re with me.”

The fight was intense. They were outnumbered and outgunned, having to dodge both the Imperial fighters as well as the weapons on the surface of the station. Still, the Alliance’s mission had drawn some of the best pilots in the galaxy, and while the Imperials had superior numbers, the Imperial Academy’s training methods had suffered in recent years. The Rebel fighters were holding their own.

For all their skill, though, they could not stop a few of the Imperials from getting past them. Arthur gritted his teeth in anger, noticing that it was the three unusual-looking fighters. “Nimueh,” he shouted into his comm, “you have three hostiles coming up behind you!”

* * *

The four of them were onboard the _Excalibur_ within minutes of Lord Tristan granting them his consent. Gwen and Morgause had made for the two gun turrets, leaving Morgana to accompany Merlin to the cockpit. When they entered the tiny room, he sat down in the pilot’s seat and his fingers flew over the controls. “There are blasters above the cockpit portal,” he informed her, jerking his head toward the co-pilot seat. “You can man them from there. They’re not as powerful as the turret guns, but every bit of firepower helps.”

Morgana nodded and sat down as directed. Glancing at the console, she quickly determined where the gun controls were and began to activate them while Merlin maneuvered the _Excalibur_ out of the empty hangar and into the sky.

The Death Star was so huge it competed with Yavin for space in the sky, but they were still several minutes away. An idea forming in her mind, Morgana leaned forward and adjusted the communications controls. There was a long, chaotic burst of static and then the cockpit was filled with the voices of the Alliance pilots.

 _“I can’t hold them!”_ Gaheris shouted. _“Red Leader, hurry! I —”_ An explosion cut off whatever the pilot was going to say. He’d never get a chance to finish his sentence. Seconds later, Bedivere met a similar fate.

Morgana fought the urge to cry out, to give in to the wave of grief that wanted to pull her under. Bedivere and Gaheris had been two of the more popular pilots in the Alliance’s fleet, and had been well-liked by all. But no, she mustn’t. Their sacrifice had to have meaning. Mourning could come later, if she was still alive to do so.

And Nimueh, Morgana saw, was unguarded as she raced toward the target. “Can’t this bucket of bolts go any faster?” she demanded, struggling to contain her anxiety.

Merlin shook his head. “Any faster and we’ll overshoot them, and be useless.” His frustration was as palpable as her own.

* * *

Nimueh could see what was coming. She was not the one destined to end this, and she had seen that too late. Her two escorts were dead, and her pursuers were fast bearing down on her. Nonetheless, she concentrated on the shot. If she could widen the vent, it would make it easier for someone else to finish the job.

Of course, she could only do that if she managed to outrun those pursuing her – particularly Aredian. She could sense his foul presence in one of the fighters, and it was distracting. Shaking her head slightly, Nimueh focused. She was only going to get one shot – there. She fired her photon torpedoes.

Unfortunately, Aredian fired on her at the same time. Nimueh tried to jerk her fighter out of the way, and thus was able to avoid a direct hit, but he still scored a hit on her engines, which damn near brought her to a halt. Slowly, her fighter started sinking, closer and closer to the hull of the station.

 _“Red Leader!”_ Arthur’s voice was frantic. _“Turn to point-oh-five, we’ll cover your retreat.”_

The boy was brave, selfless. She smiled, just a little, to herself. He would be a far better man – better ruler – than his father had been. Sending him into hiding as a baby had been the right call.

“Negative,” Nimueh said quietly. Her fighter was fast losing power. She was going to crash either way. Nimueh pushed at the controls determinedly. She would make this count; there was only one chance.

As she maneuvered her battered fighter into the correct position, she called out to the remaining fighters, “Get ready to start your attack run.”

 _“Nimueh —”_ Arthur started, but she cut him off.

“Damn it, Dragon,” she shouted, “that’s an _order_! Do it before we all end up dead.”

 _Do your duty, Arthur. Do what is right. Be your mother’s son._

Her power was down to ten percent. She could feel Morgause approaching on the _Excalibur_ , could sense her daughter’s panic. Nimueh had no reassurances to give her, only the memories of the past twenty years. With her hands moving mechanically over the controls, Nimueh closed her eyes.

 _An excited little girl toddling over the sand-covered floor, her blue eyes fixed on the toy across the room —_

 _Cradling Morgause as the sandstorm raged outside, brushing her fingers through her tangled blonde curls —_

 _Handing Morgause a training lightsaber for the first time —_

 _Racing across the desert as part of their physical fitness regime —_

 _Morgause rolling her eyes as one of the more inane boys attempted to flirt with her —_

 _“We all have our destinies, my dear,” Nimueh whispered as they hurried out of their home. “We all have our paths —”_

Then there was nothing. Until there was something again. A light, and a face, a lovely, familiar, _beloved_ face that Nimueh had despaired of ever seeing again.

 _Ygraine._

* * *

Morgause trembled as the memories flooded her mind, taking over her senses, until they had stopped as they abruptly began. The presence of her mother, which had been a vital part of her reality, winked out, leaving only emptiness.

 _“Mother!”_ she howled.

Her homeworld and birth parents were dead before she could even know them. Her mother, the woman who had raised her, taught her, molded her, was now gone as well.

And was all Aredian’s fault.

Morgause’s eyes narrowed and she glared out the window in front of her, ignoring her tears.

He would pay. Oh, how she would make him _suffer_ —

“Morgause?”

She turned her head quickly, and saw that Gwen had left her own gun turret and had climbed up next to her. The handmaiden’s eyes were sad and empathic. She reached out a hand, tentatively placing it on her cheek. Morgause surprised herself by immediately leaning into the caress.

“I’m so sorry,” Gwen whispered.

Morgause took a deep, shaky breath. “We all seem to be losing people we love lately,” she murmured. She looked up into Gwen’s dark eyes. “We have to stop them, stop the killing. No more orphans.”

Gwen gazed back at her, and then nodded. Withdrawing her hand, she climbed back down toward her own turret.

Morgause turned away, and reached up to touch the comm set on her ear. “Merlin?” she said as briskly as she could manage. “We there yet?”

There was a moment of silence, and it was Morgana who answered, her own voice unsteady. _“A minute out.”_ There was a pause, and then she added, _“Morgause, I’m —”_

She cut her off. “I know, my lady,” Morgause answered quietly. “I know.”

* * *

The last minute of their journey seemed to crawl by. Gwen strapped herself back into her seat and did one last check on the gun in front of her, quickly ascertaining that it was ready to open fire the minute they were in range. Looking out, she could see the remains of the Alliance squadrons, still furiously fighting with the Imperial fighters. Nimueh’s demise would have meant that her second-in-command would have taken over, provided he was still alive. They were still doing well, but she knew they couldn’t hold out forever.

This had to end.

It was at that moment that Gwen spotted several Imperial fighters flying towards them, already firing at them madly. Grabbing the controls, she began returning fire just as rapidly. Below her, Gwen could faintly hear Morgause doing the same.

 _“Take them out,”_ Merlin said from the cockpit, _“I’ll get us through. Arthur’s already started his run. Owain and Pellinore are with him. They’re being pursued by three Imperial fighters as well. Not much time.”_ Gwen was struck by how calm he sounded, as if he was merely discussing some innocuous topic, and not the fate of his friend.

Still, she and Morgause did as instructed. Even the guns situated above the cockpit were firing, indicating that Morgana was not sitting idly by. Their shots were aimed well, and although the _Excalibur_ took several hits, the enemy fighters were eventually reduced to dust.

 _“Go, Merlin, go!”_ There was something frantic in Morgause’s voice.

“What’s wrong?” Gwen called down to the other woman.

 _“Arthur’s in trouble!”_

* * *

Arthur was in trouble. He was coming up fast on the target, could see the countdown on the console in front of him. Time was running out and he had to be prepared. The problem lay in that he had three Imperial fighters bearing down on his unprotected fighter. One of his wingmen – Owain – had been killed already, and Pellinor was clearly the next target.

Then it would be his turn.

When the shot was made, though, Arthur was shocked that it was only a glancing blow, and not a fatal, full-on hit. _“My weapons and shields are down, Dragon,”_ Pellinor shouted. _“I can’t hold them!”_

“Get clear,” Arthur snapped, “you can’t do anymore good back there!”

Pellinor might have said something else, but Arthur did not pay him any further attention once Pellinor's fighter was off his sensors. The countdown was growing much smaller, but it wasn’t small enough, and there was no one else to distract the Imperial fighters. There wasn’t enough time, he was going to fail everyone – Merlin, Nimueh, Hunith, Lord Tristan, Gwen, Morgause, _Morgana_ –

* * *

As the _Excalibur_ came into view, Morgana reacted perhaps more quickly than she ever had. She saw a single Alliance fighter, and knew it to be Arthur’s. She saw the three Imperial fighters bearing down on him, could almost _see_ the weapons powering up, readying to end Arthur’s life and, with him, the lives of everyone on Yavin IV. Her fingers flew over the console in front of her. Accordingly, the blasters above the cockpit began firing at a rapid pace. Her aim was true, and one of the Imperial fighters vanished in a ball of fire.

Morgause and Gwen seemed to have seen what she was doing, and they followed suit. One of them hit a glancing blow on the fighter that seemed to be escorting the third, sending it into an uncontrolled spin. It glanced of its companion, which in turn sent that fighter spiraling out of control and out of range, before smashing into the trench wall.

It all happened in the space of a few precious seconds.

Merlin too did his part, maneuvering the _Excalibur_ over Arthur’s fighter. Speaking into the mike, he told his foster brother, “You’re all clear, _Dragon_. Now blow this thing so we can go home.”

Morgana snorted, adding, “Really, please do so. I think we’ve all had enough excitement for a life —”

Arthur’s abrupt release of his photon torpedoes cut her off, leaving Morgana to watch in amazement as the shots went straight into the widened vent and disappeared. Immediately both the _Excalibur_ and Arthur’s fighter veered off and began a swift journey away from the station. Within moments, they were joined by the rest of the Alliance’s squadrons. Morgana noted that there appeared to be no more than a few left, and cringed inwardly at the lives lost.

The explosion that followed nearly knocked Morgana out of her chair, and Merlin seemed to have difficulty holding the ship on-course, but both of them managed. As they began to descend into the moon’s atmosphere, the adrenaline in Morgana’s system began to fade, and was replaced by something else – elation.

They’d done it.

They were alive.

Alderaan had been avenged.

They were alive!

Morgana began to laugh, loud and clear and echoing out of the cockpit. Within moments, more laughter joined hers, from the other two women onboard, the only man, and the others over the comm.

* * *

Arthur was mobbed after he landed in the hangar bay. The support crew, aides and other people, practically everyone on the base seemed to have gathered around his fighter. He was barely able to jump off of the ladder and put his feet on the ground, before he was nearly knocked off his feet by backslaps and shoulder-poundings.

“Arthur, Arthur!”

He looked up, trying to see past the crowd, and was able to spot Merlin pushing toward him. Close behind him were a host of others – Morgause, Gwen, the other pilots who had survived the battle, and Morgana.

It hadn’t occurred to him before, but Arthur looked at the Alderaani princess and realized that she was breathtaking. He had believed that she was annoying, or arrogant, but only now did he see the beauty in her, and not just in her physical features.

He didn’t get to think anymore of it at that point, as Alliance members had moved, leaving an open path for his friends to get to him. Merlin was the first to clasp him. They hadn’t really hugged one another since they were children, but Arthur felt no shame or silliness in taking several moments to hold tight to his foster brother. “I knew you’d do it,” he said into Merlin’s ear, “I knew it!”

“Knew what?”

Arthur leaned back, grinning. “Knew you would refuse to sit by and do nothing. Your timing, for once, was absolutely impeccable!”

Merlin scowled at him and playfully punched him in the shoulder. It was then that Gwen appeared, throwing her arms around him and hugging him tightly. “Oh, well done, Arthur,” she cried, “well done!” Arthur didn’t even have time to thank her when, just as quickly, she jumped back as though she’d been burned. Her cheeks were stained pink as she sputtered, “Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to…”

Laughter swept through the crowd, and Arthur smirked at the handmaiden, winking at her teasingly. Morgause appeared just over Gwen’s shoulder, a smirk on her face as well, though he saw that she was also a little pale. “Not a bad shot, Pendragon,” she said simply.

He nodded, feeling a bit more solemn. “Thanks.” He wanted to say something, some kind of condolence over the loss of Nimueh, but just like he’d been a little tongue-tied with Morgana over Alderaan’s destruction, Arthur couldn’t think of anything to say that didn’t sound trite or foolish.

Morgana stepped forward then, diverting his attention yet again. “Well,” she said, “that was interesting, to say the least.” She grinned. “Not every day a princess helps save the hero.”

* * *

Merlin knew that Arthur was going to say something stupid the moment those words were out of Morgana’s mouth. It had fast become a habit of his since he’d met the princess, but Merlin also knew the expression on Arthur’s face. Sighing inwardly, he braced himself for the inevitable explosion.

Arthur held up his hand. “Wait,” he told her, “I wouldn’t exactly say I needed saving.” He seemed to straighten up a bit, squaring his shoulders. “I’m sure I would have thought of something.”

Morgana stared at him incredulously, and then her eyes narrowed. “You’re too proud to admit you were saved by a girl! Or girls, as the case would be.” She nodded toward Morgause and Gwen, who were also watching the exchange. “Isn’t that right, Merlin?”

He tensed briefly, but then nodded. “That’s true, Arthur,” Merlin admitted. “I just flew. The ladies did the shooting.”

“Admit it!” Morgana demanded. “You were saved by a girl!”

“I was not!”

Arthur started to move past her, making his way through the crowd, but Morgana did not appear to be willing to let go of the matter. She followed him closely, still insisting that she had saved him from the Imperial fighters. Merlin noticed Gwen and Morgause laughing quietly as they strolled after the squabbling captain and princess, and shook his head.

“Oh dear, not again.”

Merlin started, and turned. He had not noticed Lord Tristan come to stand next to him. The Alliance leader was watching Morgana and Arthur, a peculiar expression on his face. “Again, my lord?” Merlin said inquiringly.

The older man glanced at him briefly before returning his eyes to the others. “I knew two people very much like them once. Squabbled like children over every little thing.”

Merlin eyed him. “I see,” he replied slowly. “And what happened to them?”

Lord Tristan snorted. “Oh, they got married of course,” he told him. His expression darkened. “Still, I hope that, whatever the princess and the captain’s fate may be, they fare better than those two did.”

Merlin watched the older man walk away, and wondered just what else Arthur had gotten himself into.

* * *

 _The End._


End file.
